


Not Even Jail

by stewardess



Category: Prometheus (2012), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, Canon-Typical Iffy Science, Canon-Typical Violence, Drugs, First Time, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, McFassy, Robot Feelings, Robots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-11 18:31:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stewardess/pseuds/stewardess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David 8 is the android responsible for taking care of Professor Charles Xavier during a long space mission – a journey Charles, a new Weyland contract employee, didn't exactly sign up for. Inspired by a <a href="http://stewardish.tumblr.com/post/28742310065/six-hours-out-from-earth-as-the-heliades-passed">Tumblr photoset</a> I made to bunny others; I ended up bunnying myself.  Story events are set a few years before <em>Prometheus</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The _Heliades_ is the Weyland spacecraft which preceded the _Prometheus_ line.
> 
> 2\. The David 8 in this story is going to be as close to canon David 8 as I can make him.

Six hours out from Earth, as the Heliades passed Mars, David 8 was summoned by an alert he had never encountered before: a passenger was prematurely out of stasis and was struggling in his pod.

After David helped the passenger out of the pod and fetched a sickness container, he reviewed the passenger's profile: Charles Xavier, age 26, Earth-born, professor of genetics, and a telepath. David theorized Xavier's telepathic mutation was why stasis had not been established.

Xavier failing to go into stasis was unfortunate. Under ordinary circumstances, Weyland Corp employees unable to enter stasis left the company without penalty and were placed on the next shuttle home. But neither Xavier nor his contract was ordinary, and, like countless other Weyland employees David had known, Xavier had neglected to read the fine print.

David had been tasked with informing Xavier of the contract details, but not until after they arrived at their destination. Xavier's reaction while they were still in the Solar System, and it was possible to communicate with Earth, would be harder to manage.

As David expected, Xavier responded with anger when David explained the Heliades was on its way to a Weyland colony eleven months out from Earth, not the Martian assignment Xavier anticipated, and that, according to the terms of Xavier's contract, stasis failure was not a valid reason for contract cancellation. Xavier grew even angrier upon learning he would have to remain in his room throughout the voyage.

Xavier's pod had been placed in a shielded room so he did not disturb the other passengers; tests had shown telepaths in stasis and/or in dream states could project their unconscious thoughts to others in stasis, generating anxiety and even illness. Xavier awake and aware of the spacecraft's destination was even more of a problem.

David had assessed the risk the instant he knew it was Xavier who had awakened: Xavier could potentially telepathically rouse the other humans from stasis and use them to take control of the ship. But, unlike Xavier, the others knew the mission's duration, and had been guaranteed bonuses upon completion. They were not likely to be sympathetic to Xavier's predicament, and nothing in Xavier's profile indicated he would use his telepathy to control them against their will. On the negative side, Xavier's profile suggested he could potentially handle the Heliades on his own, without the help of David or the engineering crew.

At the moment, however, the risks were minimized. Xavier's telepathy could not influence a robot mind, and the door to Xavier's shielded room responded only to David's retinas.

While Xavier poured out his objections to the situation, David studied him. Xavier was unusually young to be a full professor, and his overall appearance did not mesh with David's notion of what a genetics expert should look like. Xavier's clothing emphasized his body, and his long hair and beard stubble would have been better suited to a musician.

When Xavier's angry rant slackened, David said, "I apologize for the inconvenience, Professor Xavier, but you will be very well compensated by Weyland. How can I make the time more pleasurable for you?"

Xavier had been assigned a deluxe executive room with a private bath. Earlier, during the brief time Xavier was out of the pod but still sluggish from the effects of stasis, David had unpacked Xavier's luggage to make the professor's surroundings as pleasant as possible. In addition to the pod, the room was furnished with a bed, a table and chairs, a desk, and media equipment. Weyland Corp did not desire to make an enemy of the young genetics professor, so David had been instructed to give Xavier anything he wished, except for his freedom.

Xavier lay on his bed and stared at the wall. "I don't want anything," Xavier said. "Leave me alone."

* * *

For the next forty-eight hours, David followed Xavier's instructions – he left Xavier alone – but he observed Xavier through the ship's life monitors. Xavier rose from bed to relieve himself and to drink water, but did not touch the food David offered at eight-hour intervals.

It was a concern. David's directive was to keep Xavier alive, by force if necessary. If Xavier refused to eat, David would have to return him to the pod, which would sustain Xavier through a feeding implant. Stasis failure was likely to recur, however, so Xavier could remain conscious in the pod for the duration of the voyage. It was unknown what effect prolonged pod confinement would have on Xavier's mental health, but it was guaranteed not to be beneficial.

On the third day, when David delivered Xavier's breakfast, he had reached a decision. If Xavier did not eat within the next 24 hours, David would have to take action. But first he would explain to Xavier what the alternatives were. Xavier had an intelligence variable of 240, the highest David had come across in a human; his own was 300. Surely Xavier would choose eating voluntarily over being confined in a pod. But David did not have to broach the topic. When David set down the breakfast tray, Xavier had a question.

"Do you have any whiskey?" Xavier said.

"Yes, sir," David said. "American or Irish?"

"Irish," Charles said.

David fetched a bottle of Bushmills. Alcohol was far from ideal nourishment, but it was at least high in calories. More importantly, after Xavier's judgment was impaired by a few drinks, David might succeed in coaxing Xavier to eat.

The strategy worked. After Xavier was intoxicated, David brought the most tempting dish the galley offered. Xavier devoured it, and requested more ice for his beverage.

* * *

During the next few days, Xavier drank heavily, slept ten hours at a stretch, and only spoke to request alcohol and ice. But he ate every meal David served, and accepted David's offer of access to music and other entertainment media.

It was eight days after their departure from Earth that Charles asked his first question unrelated to food or drink.

"What's it like to be a robot?" Charles was eating vegetarian lasagna and drinking white wine.

"I have no frame of reference but my own, Charles."

Since David had only a first name, Charles had insisted David refer to him as _Charles_ , not _Professor Xavier_.

"So I cannot usefully answer the question in terms a human would understand," David concluded.

"But you can form a theory of mind, as humans do," Charles said. "The lower animal orders cannot. So even without a frame of reference, you can imagine what it is like to be human, then make comparisons to your own perception of existence. Whether what you come up with is useful or accurate isn't the point."

"It is always the point," David said. He sat down at the table, opposite Charles.

Charles smiled. "Are you saying you can't imagine what it would be like to be human? I can imagine what it is like to be a robot."

Normally, human opinions on the nature of robot existence did not interest David. But perhaps Charles, as a telepath, had a viewpoint significantly different from that of the other humans David had met.

"I have speculated on what it would be like to be human," David admitted.

Charles smiled at his wine glass as he refilled it. "Have you now."

"I believe I would find it a frustrating experience," David said.

"It is," Charles said, after a pause. "But oddly enough that's exactly what I think being a robot would be like."

David remained in Charles's company for two hours. They discussed the chemistry of wine making, which led them to the genetic history of domesticated grapes, which transitioned to the invention of glass-blowing and glass molds, and ended up naturally enough with the Venetian city-state.

* * *

When David next looked in on Charles, Charles was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, a half-full whiskey bottle beside him. Charles was dressed only in trousers and a sleeveless T-shirt.

"Where have you been?" Charles gripped a glass with both hands, his white knuckles visible from across the room.

"We cleared the Solar System and were authorized to enter FTL speed," David said. "I am the only robot aboard, and the human crew is in stasis, so I had many tasks."

"I haven't seen you for three days," Charles said, his expression angry.

David understood why Charles was irritated. It had been impolite not to inform Charles he would be busy. But he did not understand the intensity of Charles's emotion. Charles had everything a human required: food, drink, entertainment, toiletries, fresh clothing. Charles also had the ability to summon David through an emergency aid button; Charles hadn't used it.

"Never disappear like that again," Charles said. His expression changed from anger to what David assessed as sadness. "Can I ask you for that, David?"

"Yes, you may ask," David said. "What is the maximum time I can be absent before it is an inconvenience?"

"Twelve hours," Charles said

"That will not be a problem, sir," David said. "I will check on you every eight hours, when I deliver meals."

"Call me Charles," Charles said. "I'm sorry, I wasn't clear. I meant don't be absent for more than twelve hours a day."

"You need me to be in your company a minimum of twelve hours a day," David said, to be sure he understood.

"Unless that's too much," Charles said quickly.

David at last interpreted the new emotion on Charles's face. It was fear, partially hidden by the mask of etiquette.

Perhaps Charles was uncomfortable with solitude, even more so than the average human. Charles's telepathic mutation meant he would rarely have been without human input. In a shielded room in the depths of space, Charles might find the "silence" disorienting. But what did Charles fear? That David would not agree to spend time with him? Or was Charles afraid of revealing vulnerability?

"It will be my pleasure," David said.

If he was going to remain with Charles, he should sit down. He took a step toward the table and its four chairs, then resolved to join Charles on the floor.

Once David was sitting beside him, Charles's body posture relaxed, but his eyes were watchfully focused on David. David recognized the cues; they indicated a human who was testing him – with purpose, or out of general curiosity.

"Is there anything you won't do for me, David?" Charles asked.

David smiled. He had been right: Charles was testing him. At least Charles was forthright about it. Bizarrely, many humans assumed their intentions were too subtle for David to perceive. David decided to be forthright in return.

"I cannot assist you in evading the terms of your contract," David said. "I cannot assist you in damaging the Heliades, or causing harm to me, or to the passengers in stasis. I cannot allow you to come to harm."

"Then you're a failure, David." Charles's eyes were suddenly wet with tears. He set his glass down and wiped his eyes with his fingers.

"Please tell me more," David said, his voice neutral. Internally, he was acutely distressed at the criticism.

"I _am_ coming to harm," Charles said. In spite of the wiping, tears ran down his cheeks. "Did you know there was a barbaric punishment called _solitary_ in the twentieth century? That's what this is, solitary. I have nothing to look forward to. Nearly a year without seeing another human being, then who knows how long at the colony, then almost a year to get back. When will I see Earth again?"

David hesitated, but he had to give Charles the information eventually. "In six years," David said.

David raised his hand just in time to deflect the half-full whiskey bottle Charles hurled at his head. The bottle landed several feet away. Charles leapt to his feet and lunged for it, clearly intending to use the bottle as a weapon, so David stood up and wrapped his arms around Charles, imprisoning Charles's arms.

David held on until Charles was limp and unresisting, then carried Charles to the bed. After covering Charles with a blanket, he left the room. Somewhat worried, he observed Charles through the life monitors. He did not think Charles would harm himself, but surveillance seemed prudent.

Charles's attack had taken him by surprise. While he watched Charles, David explored the reasons for his error in judgment.

One: David had been influenced by personal prejudice. He believed an intelligent human was less likely to resort to violence. Two: Charles had a history of supporting pacifism and weapons control. But Charles might not view an attack on a robot as violence. Charles might class David in the same group as the lock on the door: as technology holding him prisoner.

It was unfortunate David hadn't anticipated Charles's loss of control, but David concluded the situation with Charles had not yet exceeded his training or abilities. His immediate course of action was clear enough: Charles had told him not to be away for more than twelve hours a day.

When exactly twelve hours had passed, David prepared a hot meal and took it to Charles. Charles sat up in bed and began to eat, but his movements were so slow and spiritless David was concerned. _I prefer him hurling bottles_ , David thought, then dismissed it as a lapse in logic.

Charles's criticism had distressed David because Charles was right. David was failing to keep Charles healthy until they reached their destination. Weyland Corp expected Charles to begin work the day of the ship's arrival; Charles had to be fully functioning at the end of the voyage.

"Charles," David said. "May I give you a tour of the Heliades?"

Charles looked up, his expression listless, then his eyes widened. "Yes, please," Charles said. His voice was polite, but his hands trembled.

"I must ask you not to telepathically contact the passengers in stasis," David said. "It could cause them severe emotional distress." It was not his main concern, but saying _Please do not commit mutiny_ would be unproductive.

"I won't," Charles said. "I promise."

Before they left the room, Charles combed his hair. David noted the behavior with interest; grooming was a sign of mental health in humans. David had theorized a change of scene would benefit Charles. Intriguingly, even the promise of change had a positive effect.

David opened the door; Charles paused on the threshold. "David, will you get in trouble for letting me out?"

"I considered that before I made the offer," David said. "The ship will log your whereabouts, and I will be required to give an explanation, but I believe my decision is defendable."

The tour of the ship took six hours; Charles's interest was keen. Charles especially enjoyed the bridge, where David retracted the debris shields from the windscreens so Charles could view space.

David enjoyed the tour more than he had expected; few humans understood his technical explanations. But Charles's intelligence was a two-edged sword. Charles's schooling and interests had indicated he could potentially control the Heliades. The caliber of Charles's questions during the tour changed that from a possibility to a certainty. David would have to review his security precautions.

When they reached the circular media room, Charles exclaimed in pleasure at the large screen, so David selected a film, and they sat down to watch it together. Halfway through the film, David prepared food, eating some of it to keep Charles's company. 

Several days passed without incident. Charles did not attempt to contact the passengers, his mood remained elevated, and his appetite was good. It was a positive development, but it was also possible Charles was biddable because he feared losing his liberty again.

Since David had physically restrained Charles after the altercation with the bottle, Charles knew David could easily overpower him again. David wished he had not been required to use physical force on Charles. It was not conducive to a good working relationship in the future. But overall it was not important; David's role did not require Charles to like him.

Charles took to sleeping on the couches in the media room; he rarely went to his room. They still had ten months ahead of them, but David was cautiously certain Charles would get through the journey with mind and body in good health.

* * *

Two weeks later, David entered the media room and found Charles drinking whiskey and watching pornography. Charles was slumped back on a couch, his gaze fixed on the screen, his lips parted. 

There were rarely high production values in pornography. The music in particular tended to be atrocious. But it was not enough to be in Charles's company; David had reviewed human social mores, and knew he had to engage in mutual activities. So while David would prefer to watch _A Passage To India_ or another classic, he would sit beside Charles and watch porn this evening. It was not much of a hardship. While appearing to look at the screen, David could access a book stored in his memory.

"Is this boring you?" Charles asked several minutes later.

"I do not find the film particularly engaging," David said. Could Charles detect he had not been paying attention?

"It's better if you have been drinking," Charles said, smiling. "Or if you have been locked up for weeks. I'm so horny I could…" Charles looked back at the screen, his smile gone.

David returned to the book he was reading. The topic was single-cell organisms found within the Solar System.

"David, would you mind leaving the room for a while?" Charles continued to stare at the film screen. "For just an hour or so."

David stood up. "Of course not, Charles. May I bring you anything when I return?"

"You don't care, do you?" Charles said. "If I masturbate in front of you."

The reference to masturbation did not surprise David. Because Charles had asked him to leave, David had assumed Charles was going to engage in an activity requiring nudity. Charles avoided changing his clothing in front of David, and never bathed or used the toilet facilities while David was present. Not all humans were socially inhibited in front of robots; Charles clearly was.

"Whether I care is irrelevant," David said. "What matters is if you do."

"I don't care," Charles said. "Stay."

David sat down. Why was Charles misrepresenting his emotions? Charles cared about physical privacy; David was certain of it.

"David, how many people are at the colony?" Charles asked.

An abrupt change of subject from masturbation, but David could follow the logic. Charles wanted to know if it was a large colony, with tens of thousands of humans, because Charles wished to know if he would find sex partners there. David considered not answering the question, but he judged that Charles was no longer despondent, and was ready for more of the information David had been withholding.

"It is not technically a colony," David said. "Not yet. It is an unexplored planet which has been assigned the name LV-329. A probe reported the presence of multi-celled organisms there. If the probe's data is accurate, they are the first complex organisms found outside of our Solar System, as I'm sure you know. The discovery is why you were recruited by Weyland; you will be the lead geneticist. The passengers of the Heliades, including you and I, will be the first and only inhabitants of LV-329 for some time."

The look that crossed Charles's face made David suspect a bottle was about to be thrown. Charles knew how few humans were in stasis aboard the Heliades: twenty-two.

"Is the planet's atmosphere breathable?" Charles looked back at the film screen, perhaps to hide his emotions from David.

"Not according to the probe," David said. "The planet could be terraformed, but it will not be advisable in this case, since terraforming could destroy the organisms."

"So LV-329 will be just another prison," Charles said. His voice was colder, and angrier. "If we can't breathe the air, we'll be on the ship most of the time. Will you be my jailer there as well?" 

"I do not know," David said. "I hope that I am, but I do not choose my assignments." A Weyland Corp senior president was in stasis; she would be in control once they reached their destination.

"You _want_ to be my jailer?" Charles was staring at David now, not the film screen.

"I cannot assist you in evading your contract," David said. "But I can alleviate your distress by seeing to your needs. I wish to continue serving that function."

"Are you saying you _care_?" Charles sounded disdainful, but also simply curious.

"Your continued well-being is important to Weyland," David said. Charles _needed_ someone to care; that was obvious. "The organisms could be tremendously profitable. Weyland is prepared to give you a percentage of earnings from any commercial products derived from them."

Charles refilled his glass with whiskey. He did not seem at all interested in a percentage, which was outside of David's experience; David had concluded humans cared about money more than anything else. Charles came from a wealthy background, but a share in Weyland profits would amount to billions.

Charles changed the subject abruptly. "David, why were you made to be so good-looking? There is no practical reason for it."

"I am modeled on Weyland family genetic traits," David said, not sure if he was answering the question.

Unexpectedly, Charles smiled. "I see. So you're flattery, like portraits of royals."

David had not thought of it that way before, but the analogy was so accurate David smiled at Charles. Charles was right; David's aesthetic qualities were greater than those of any male member of the Weyland family.

"Can I get you anything, Charles?" David pointed to the nearly empty whiskey bottle.

"Not unless you have any drugs," Charles said distractedly. His levity was over; he was undoubtedly thinking about the first discovery of complex life outside of the Solar System.

"Would you prefer a stimulant or a relaxant?" David said.

"You're serious," Charles said after a pause.

"There are ample medical supplies on the ship," David said. "Some of the drugs are suitable for recreational use." He pulled up Charles's medical history: experimentation with marijuana while at university, but no addictions or allergies.

"Relaxant, please." Charles's expression was, if anything, angry.

When David returned from the med bay, Charles held out his hand, then saw David carried an injection stick, not a pill. 

"What is it?" Charles said, withdrawing his arm rapidly.

"An artificial opiate," David said. "It does not interact with alcohol, and it is non-habit forming." 

Charles held out his arm. "Fuck it." He did not seem to be addressing David.

"It should be injected in a large muscle group, such as the buttocks or thighs," David said. "To prevent muscle soreness."

Charles began to rise from the couch; he apparently thought he would have to undress. To save Charles the trouble, David touched the injection stick to Charles's thigh; the delivery system pierced clothing easily.

Charles slumped back on the couch, his eyes half-closed. "Oh fuck."

"Is it satisfactory as a relaxant?" David said.

"Very," Charles said.

"It also contains an anti-anxiety medication," David said. "Let me know if it becomes unpleasant; there is an antidote. Side-effects include dry mouth. I shall get you some water."

When David returned with water, Charles drank it down quickly, then looked up at David and smiled.

David sat on the couch beside him. Charles appeared to be fully relaxed and cheerful for the first time since he had come out of stasis and discovered his fate. Drugs were not an optimal solution, but David was pleased they were at least effective. In the event David administered the drug to Charles for the duration of the voyage, he would have to review the drug's datasheet for long-term complications.

Charles grabbed his hand. "David. You're a good robot. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"No, but thank you, Charles." David smiled. Garrulousness was a side effect of the drug.

Charles looked expectant. David realized Charles wanted to be complimented in return.

"You are a very intelligent human," David said. "The most intelligent I have known."

Charles laughed. "You have a frame of reference for that?"

"Yes," David said. "I've known a few intelligent humans."

"A _few_ ," Charles said, smiling as he exaggerated David's emphasis. "You are such a _robot_."

"And you are such a _human_ ," David said immediately. Charles demanded a rapid give-and-take in conversation which David found invigorating.

Charles's amusement vanished. "And that is the problem, David," Charles said. "I'm human, and what Weyland Corp is doing to me is _inhuman_. And you're _helping_ them do it."

David considered that the injection had malfunctioned, and that Charles had pretended to be affected by the drug. David examined the tip of the injection stick. It appeared as expected. Perhaps Charles's mutant metabolism quickly eliminated drugs from his system? 

"You said you couldn't do anything about my contract," Charles said, waving his arms for emphasis. "But I know you can, David–"

"You will be very well compensated," David interrupted.

"David!" Charles shouted. "You control this ship completely; I know you do. So use that robot brain you're so proud of and help me think of something!"

David gripped Charles's flailing arms. "It seems the relaxant was not effective, Charles," David said. "Would you care for more?" As a precaution, David had brought the antidote, as well as additional doses.

Charles stopped speaking, and observed David so intently the scrutiny made David uncomfortable. When David pressed a second injection stick against Charles's thigh, Charles did nothing to prevent it.

Charles's eyes half-closed again. David examined the second injection stick. It had deployed.

"So that's your answer," Charles said. "I'm not as smart as you think. I thought your answer would be something else."

David assisted Charles in stretching out on the couch, and tucked a pillow under Charles's head.

 _Use that robot brain you're so proud of._ While he watched Charles sleep, David put his mind to work. While not conclusive, the drug experiment seemed unpromising as a method of reducing Charles's stress. But what else could David do to ease Charles's mind?

Perhaps an answer could be found in something Charles had said days earlier. _Nothing to look forward to._ If David gave Charles a reason to hope – by convincing Charles that he was on Charles's side, perhaps? – then Charles _would_ have something to look forward to. Freedom.

But convincing Charles would not be easy; Charles was much too intelligent to be satisfied by promises only. David would have to provide concrete proof. 

Charles stirred in his sleep, dislodging his pillow. David adjusted it.

David had never undertaken long-term deception of a human; he was not sure he would succeed, especially with a human as intelligent as Charles. Uncertainty was a new and surprisingly pleasant sensation. He returned the unused drugs to the med bay, and sat by Charles, watching over him.

* * *

David could not implement his strategy right away, however. After the incident with the drugs, Charles had lost trust in him. 

Charles was not precisely avoiding David – avoiding anyone was difficult on a spaceship, even one as large as the Heliades – but when David proposed mutual activities, such as playing basketball in the cargo bay, Charles always declined. Charles had even resumed sleeping in his room. But the most notable change concerned whiskey. Charles had stopped drinking alcohol.

More than a week passed, and Charles continued to erect social barriers. David would have to do something drastic.

The idea came to him while he was watching a film. To gain trust, David would have to be vulnerable. Since he was not vulnerable, he would have to feign it. The easiest way would be to damage himself and make it appear to be an accident.

David could repair himself, which Charles would be aware of, but Charles would not know how easily and rapidly David could do it; that was proprietary Weyland information.

If Charles refused to help David when he appeared to be incapacitated, then David would have to abandon his plan to give Charles hope; there would be no chance of it after that, since Charles would view David's actions as deception and betrayal. Still, David judged the risk was worth it; if Charles assisted him, trust would return, and David could proceed with convincing Charles he would help Charles gain his freedom.

* * *

In the med bay, David assessed the tools available. There were acids which would eat holes in his flesh. There were laser scalpels which would take a limb off cleanly. He continued his inventory until he unlocked the cabinet which held medication. A dozen injection sticks were missing.

David's mind surprised him with its slow response, then David was running to Charles's room. He pulled the door open so forcefully he damaged the hinges. Charles was on the bed, unresponsive, an injection stick on the floor beside him. Instead of wasting precious moments to examine Charles, David picked him up and took him to the med bay, placing Charles inside a med pod.

The machine enclosed Charles, and beeped.

"Overdose of medication," David said. "I request–"

"Blood replacement recommended to counter toxins," the med pod said. "Heart has stopped. Attempting restart. Restart unsuccessful. Second attempt in progress. Blood replacement in progress. Heart has restarted. Kidney function compromised. Can proceed with–"

"Just don't let him die, you stupid machine!" David's outburst surprised him, but logical reasons for it were readily available. He had never had a passenger die; it was the worst failure he could imagine.

The med pod was quiet except for its incessant beeping. Fifteen minutes later, it announced, "Kidney failure averted. Heart rate stabilized. Patient out of critical condition."

"How much did he take?" David asked. 

He wanted it to be an accidental overdose. He should not have left the drugs where Charles could access them; a locked cabinet was not a sufficient precaution. Knowing he was partly culpable was another reason he had been angered by the med pod.

"Approximately six times the recommended dose," the med pod said. "In addition, his blood alcohol level was .10. Estimated return to full consciousness 60 to 80 minutes."

"Keep him for me for now," David said. "I need to examine his room."

Six doses was borderline; Charles could have taken that much accidentally, or intentionally. Perhaps, since it seemed Charles could rapidly eliminate drugs from his system, Charles had taken multiple doses in an attempt to achieve relaxation. A blood alcohol level of .10 was enough to impair judgment. 

In Charles's room, David found six unused injection sticks, which reassured him. If Charles had intended to kill himself, Charles would have used all of them. David took the sticks to the med bay, collected the rest of the artificial opiates, and incinerated them. If the humans required surgery in the future, the med pods had integral supplies of anesthesia and pain killers, which David was seventy percent certain Charles could not access.

David set up a bed for Charles in the media room, which he knew Charles preferred above all other spaces on the Heliades. He removed Charles from the med pod and carried him to the bed. The med pod had cut up Charles's clothing and sprayed Charles with disinfectant, so David undressed Charles, washed his skin and hair, and dressed him in clean clothing.

It was an hour before Charles opened his eyes. David had selected _Verdant Pastures_ on the holocube; the circular media room was filled with a 360-degree projection of green fields in Northeastern America, where Charles had grown up. Belatedly, David realized the visual effect could be disorienting to Charles in his current condition.

"I can turn the holocube off if you wish," David said.

"It's all right, David," Charles said. "I want to sit up more."

David adjusted the pillows under Charles's head.

"David. Why did you put me in here?"

David understood what Charles was asking: after what Charles had done, why hadn't David put Charles in his room and locked the door? David could answer that the door no longer locked, since David had damaged its hinges. But the door was not important.

Now that Charles was conscious, David could ask Charles if the overdose had been intentional, or accidental. But David believed the question was pointless. He could not trust Charles to answer truthfully, and – it was hard to admit – he was unsure if he could detect when Charles was lying.

"I cannot guarantee your safety by confining you to your room," David said. "Our destination is expected to be an extremely hazardous environment. Even if every precaution is taken, it is possible several of us will perish there. If you are determined to die, you will eventually succeed, no matter what steps I take."

"Perfectly logical," Charles said.

Something in Charles's voice stung. "Yes, logic," David said. "If you are determined to end your life, it is better that it happen now, while we are in transit, and not after we reach LV-329, where your impulse for self-destruction could jeopardize the humans in my care."

Anger flared in Charles's face, but then he looked… impatient?

"Are you afraid I will try to destroy _you_ , David?" Charles said.

"My fear is my concern," David said.

The possibility of Charles attempting to destroy him had crossed his mind. David was consoled by the knowledge he was the only sentient being aboard the Heliades immune to the potential biological danger that awaited them at LV-329. The other humans would need him, and Charles knew that.

"Can I have whiskey, David?"

"No. Will that be all, sir?"

"You're afraid, and you're angry," Charles said. "At last we have something in common."

"Not too much, I hope," David said.

Charles laughed, an easy sound nothing like the polite noise he made while watching a comedy, then Charles turned serious again.

"I had begun to think there wasn't a real you," Charles said. "But it seems there is after all. You can go spy on me from another room now, David. I have to sleep." Charles closed his eyes and was asleep in minutes.

David stayed. When Charles woke up, David hoped Charles would find his remaining in the room extremely irritating.


	2. Chapter 2

If Charles was irritated the next morning, he did not reveal it to David.

After David repaired the hinges on the door to Charles's room, Charles went there only to use the bath and to change his clothing. They swiftly returned to a daily routine of sports, films, and meals eaten in each other's company.

David was reassured, but not entirely; their current activities were not sufficient to occupy Charles throughout the voyage. Charles's mental health would decline without an intellectual challenge. There _was_ something on the ship which could divert Charles, but which Charles had pointedly avoided: the science lab.

When David had shown Charles the science lab during the tour, Charles had observed it from the doorway, and had not returned. David understood; since Charles's genetic expertise was what Weyland Corp wanted, Charles would withhold it. Even so, if David offered Charles the LV-329 report, David was certain Charles would be unable to resist looking at it. But it was not that simple. 

Before Charles was given access, Weyland required an additional no-compete agreement from Charles. Negotiating the agreement was the responsibility of Meredith Vickers, the senior president in cyrosleep. Not anticipating Charles would fail to enter stasis, Weyland Corp had assumed the negotiation could be delayed until after the Heliades reached LV-329.

There was no chance Charles would approve the agreement, which refocused David on his key problem: he had not yet gained Charles's trust by convincing Charles he was an ally. David's strategy to feign vulnerability by injuring himself no longer held appeal, however; it had too many risks. He needed another approach.

As always when he needed to mull over a problem, David decided to watch _Lawrence of Arabia_. He did not expect to find a practical solution within the narrative – he knew every word already – but while he watched it his mind relaxed and roamed freely, in the same manner some humans experienced while listening to music.

Charles joined him in the media room while the _Lawrence of Arabia_ overture was still playing, and sat beside David on the couch.

During the water well scene, when Peter O'Toole said the line _My fear is my concern_ , Charles laughed in recognition.

"Quite a compliment," Charles said. "If you see me as Sherif Ali."

"Please," David began.

"Do not talk during the film," Charles said. "Sorry."

Charles did not speak again, but he remained a distraction, because David could not help observing his reactions to the film. Charles laughed when Lawrence was dealing with his "superiors," and Charles's eyes were wet during the scenes which affected most humans – but also, inexplicably, there was a tear on Charles's face during a battle charge, when Lawrence brandished a gun and smiled with excitement.

They ate during the intermission, then continued with the second half. It occurred to David he had never watched Lawrence of Arabia _with_ someone before, even though he had watched the film on other occasions when humans were present.

When the film ended, Charles said, "Thank you, David. I have seen parts of it, but this is the first time I saw it from beginning to end."

Charles left to change into sleepwear. David put the media room in order, clearing away the remains of their meal and vacuuming crumbs from the carpet. As David passed a mirror, he saw he had dropped food on his jacket. He removed it and the T-shirt beneath, and opened the closet stocked with his uniforms; there were no jackets inside. Feeling inconvenienced, David went to the laundry.

The laundry galley was in a shocking state. Spending so much time with Charles had put David behind in his chores. He bent over a full laundry bin to sort the unwashed clothes and linens.

"Excuse me," Charles said from the doorway.

David straightened up and turned around.

"I was wondering," Charles said. 

David waited for the rest of the sentence while Charles looked about the room, as if what had made Charles wonder could be anywhere: on the ceiling above David; on the floor David stood upon.

"If you needed help with the laundry," Charles said.

David didn't, but it was a mutual activity they could share, so he nodded. Charles picked up a bin and tried to cram the entire contents of it into a washing machine.

"Have you ever done laundry?" David said, slightly irritated. He took the bin from Charles.

Charles smiled. "I haven't. Please tell me how the machines clean without water, David."

David was mollified by the question. It never ceased to surprise him how many humans expected spacecraft to store enormous amounts of water, an extremely heavy and bulky substance. Charles of course had not made that assumption. David explained the ionic system, and showed Charles how to load the machines properly.

After the wash was in progress, David located a clean uniform. He put on a T-shirt, and was about to put on a jacket over it, when Charles said, "Do you have to dress so formally all the time?"

"I am expected to look professional," David said.

"I don't expect it," Charles said. "Is it too late for basketball?"

Charles was not dressed for sports – he was wearing his sleepwear: a thin cotton T-shirt, cotton drawstring pants, and sandals – but it was not David's role to criticize clothing choices. They walked together to the cargo bay, where there was a hoop mounted on the wall, and a half court outlined with reflective floor tape. Charles found the basketball and tossed it to David, then Charles kicked off his sandals to play barefoot.

One-on-one basketball was a simple game, but they had made it even simpler. They never performed defense, but merely passed the basketball back and forth, each taking two throws, forfeiting the second throw if they missed the first. David never missed. Charles had been a terrible shot in the beginning; now his accuracy was almost as good as David's.

David held the ball one-handed, conscious he was showing off; Charles had to use both hands to shoot. Just as David threw the ball, Charles tackled him. David missed the shot. Charles yelled triumphantly and ran after the ball.

It was the first time Charles had interfered with a shot, and the first time David had missed.

"That was a foul," David said. According to the rules they had established, a foul would grant David another throw.

Charles raised an eyebrow. "Feel free to report me to the umpire." But he passed the ball to David.

When David raised the ball, Charles tackled him again.

For several minutes, David crossed and re-crossed the court, Charles pursuing him. Whenever David raised his arm to make a shot, Charles ran into him. David could have easily knocked Charles flat, but he didn't.

He had no idea why Charles had suddenly begun to use defense, and dirty defense at that. Not knowing was frustrating, but David could see Charles was enjoying himself, and Charles achieving stress relief took precedence over David's curiosity.

Finally, after a particularly egregious tackle by Charles, which left them sprawled on the floor, David threw the ball from his prone position. He made the shot. As the ball passed through the basket without touching the sides, Charles rolled on top of David, as if Charles could retroactively ruin David's aim.

David was exhilarated by making the shot, because it had been difficult, but especially because Charles had been there to witness it. David rolled them over, so Charles was under him – _I am the victor_ went through his mind – and then David said in his driest, most proper voice, "Please inform me in advance if you do not plan to follow the rules, sir. Game over."

Charles laughed. Charles had been laughing throughout the game, and was panting from exertion; it had not been easy for him to keep up with David. Charles's forehead was damp with sweat, and his body heat radiated through his clothing, his temperature identical to David's. David had always known robots and humans were thermally the same, but he had never _noticed_ it before.

It reminded David of what Charles had said days earlier. _David, why were you made to be so good-looking? There is no practical reason for it._ There was no practical reason for robots and humans to be the same temperature. 

He rolled off Charles and stood up. Charles made a disappointed sound – because Charles had failed to prevent him from scoring? – then Charles put on his sandals and left to take a shower.

David returned to the media room and scanned the film directory, but he could not settle on anything. He had seen all of the films more than once, which did not usually trouble him, but at the moment it made him oddly dissatisfied. His surge of confidence at the end of the basketball game had ebbed away, leaving behind uncertainty. Why had Charles tackled him? Why had Charles laughed throughout the game?

Dressed in a clean set of sleepwear, Charles entered the media room, his hair still damp from his shower. He settled back on a couch and selected a pornographic film to watch. The abysmal soundtrack assaulted David's ears.

A moment before, David had been unable to decide on a film, but Charles's choice, piled atop David's unsatisfied curiosity about their basketball game, was deeply annoying. How like a human to just _start_ a film, without asking if it was agreeable to others. But David did not have to suffer in silence. He had spent weeks in Charles's company; he knew precisely how to annoy Charles in return.

Charles preferred to watch pornography alone, so David sat next to him, with only a few centimeters between them. Later, when Charles inevitably suggested that David leave for a while, as Charles always did while watching pornography, David would pretend not to understand what Charles wanted.

While he waited for Charles to tell him to leave, David tried to read a book stored in his memory, but he was distracted by Charles's expressions as Charles watched the film.

When Charles finally spoke, he did not ask David to go.

"David, look. He's almost as good-looking as you are."

David glanced at the actor on the screen, who was engaged in a kiss – the type always referred to as a "passionate" kiss – with another actor. David turned to Charles, searching for a response that would be irritating without being obvious, when Charles leaned forward to pick up a water glass on the low table before them.

David snatched the glass away. When Charles reached for it, David held it up over their heads, out of Charles's reach. Charles smiled.

"There you are again," Charles said, no longer attempting to take the glass from David.

"I do not understand," David said reluctantly. He disliked saying the phrase; he especially disliked saying it to Charles.

"I mean there you are, the real you." Charles continued to smile.

"What is the real me?" David said, trying to sound scornful instead of curious.

" _Who_ is the real me," Charles said, and smiled wider. "As near as I can make out, he's an egotistical little boy who has trouble sharing. I would put his age at about seven. Nine on good days."

David set the glass on the table. Several retorts scrolled through his mind, but none were appropriate, because he needed an insult that was humorous in its truth, as Charles's had been. Charles's pornography watching habits seemed like a rich vein to mine for insults, so David turned to the film.

But the film did not offer retort material any more than it offered quality music, and David was about to give up on it when the actor who resembled him appeared again, and suddenly a new idea presented itself, sailing into David's mind neatly without touching the sides:

Charles watched pornography because he didn't have a sex partner; Charles wanted a sex partner; Charles thought David was attractive. Conclusion: since there was no other option available to Charles, Charles could be considering David as a potential sex partner. 

It made sense of how Charles had behaved in the laundry, and while they had been playing basketball; Charles had been mildly flirting, David realized, and not just today, but on many occasions. David was disappointed it hadn't occurred to him sooner, but he put that aside to concentrate on how he could use the information in the months ahead to encourage Charles to trust him.

Weyland had authorized David to take almost any conceivable action to insure the mission was a success. If seducing Charles would help, David had to attempt it. David was far from certain he could successfully carry out sexual intimacy, however; he had never attempted to before.

Sex was a basic human behavior, but it was nevertheless extremely complex, even for humans. There were theories that wooing through language had been a major factor, perhaps _the_ major factor, in the evolution of the human brain. To seduce Charles, David would have to carefully plan out his approach.

When Charles shifted on the couch, David realized he had allowed his conversation with Charles to end awkwardly. But he could not address that now; he had too much to think about.

"I'm sorry, Charles," David said. "I am interrupting your film viewing. Would you like me to leave for an hour? There is laundry I should attend to."

He used his politest tone, but Charles turned back to the film without saying a word. As if David was already gone.

* * *

That night, while Charles slept, David sped through books and films in the _romance_ category. He had never done so before with the intention of learning something useful, and he was disappointed with what he gleaned.

The films and books left out something essential. They never provided believable reasons for humans to feel romantic. David knew what was missing, MHC; the major histocompatibility complex provided pathogen immunity and was the genetic basis for human sexual attraction. It had been known for almost a century that humans were attracted to mates with MHC significantly different from their own, so they could pass on to their offspring the greatest possible range of immunity.

Humans exchanged MHC information unconsciously when they kissed; MHC was present in saliva and other bodily fluids. Some humans, especially females, could detect MHC through scent alone. When humans were intellectually or emotionally attracted to each other, but then kissed and "felt nothing," the likelihood of a sexual relationship declined drastically. Humans had described the experience as "did not click" or "no chemistry" long before the role of MHC was known. There was no click because they had detected MHC in the other person which, when combined with their own, would result in immunologically deficient offspring.

It was beyond the limitations of books and films to portray the MHC hurdle each human pairing had to overcome, and was a factor even when the humans were the same sex, or past the age of reproduction. But if films and books could accurately portray MHC negotiations, they wouldn't. Humans were practiced at ignoring biological facts which contradicted their belief they weren't like other animals; they clung to delusions such as _love at first sight_ and _soul mates_.

David was free of human illusions, but he could not ignore MHC, because robots lacked it. If he kissed Charles, Charles's MHC detection would send the message _There is nothing here_ , and Charles would not experience sexual arousal.

It was not an insurmountable problem, however. David could not conjure up Paris in Spring, or any other staple of romantic films, but he _could_ create MHC which Charles would find intriguing.

Conveniently, David already had a scent diffuser installed. Since the David 5, Weyland Corp had carried a line of robot fragrances. David used a limited edition preferred by Sir Peter Weyland, a blend of black vanilla, tobacco flower, and teakwood.

The David 5 had been Weyland's first ultra-realistic robot; its introduction had revealed a problem. Humans unconsciously expected anything that looked human to have a human-like scent. Once robots mimicked humans exactly, humans perceived robots as sly and untrustworthy, because human noses could not detect their approach. Sales had plummeted until the fragrance line was offered.

David had not installed a scent pack recently; he had no need to when caring for humans in stasis. He would have to refill it tonight. He had to know if the scent on its own was agreeable to Charles. Otherwise, the fragrance could skew results when David added MHC to his diffuser.

To begin, David needed Charles's MHC. Fortunately, obtaining it would be simple. The med pod would have profiled Charles's MHC in case Charles's organs had failed, because histocompatibility determined whether synthetic organ transplants were accepted or rejected. 

After installing a new scent pack, David checked the med pod. As he had anticipated, Charles's MHC had been read and stored. David encoded it in the proprietary language developed by Weyland androids, which used geometric shapes instead of a roman alphabet, and was related to an old notation system called shorthand. Even a genius like Charles Xavier would have a difficult time cracking it.

* * *

In the science lab two hours later, David faced the first significant obstacle in his MHC quest. Charles's MHC turned out to be unusually rich, providing immunity to almost every known human pathogen.

Charles was a mutated human, so David should have anticipated the difficulty. To develop an MHC appealing to Charles, David would have to create an even more complex version. Doing so from scratch could take months; they were likely to reach LV-329 first. 

He could begin with Charles's MHC instead, exposing it to mutagens to create variation. But Charles's DNA could possibly recognize even a mutated version as "self," which would result in no sexual arousal. The other approach was to sample the MHC of the humans in stasis, and force their MHC to evolve. Except for the senior president Vickers, the human crew had signed away their DNA rights to Weyland; it had been mandatory for the mission.

David collected the twenty-one MHC profiles over the course of two hours. The stasis chambers made it easy; he did not even have to open the pods.

When David finished encoding the data, he was out of time for the night. Charles would wake up in three hours, and David was determined to catch up on his chores so he could devote himself to his MHC project whenever he was not with Charles.

* * *

In the morning, Charles rose from bed at his usual time, drank juice, and went to the cargo bay for his daily 5 to 10 kilometer run on a treadmill. Also as usual, David joined him, running on a treadmill beside Charles's. 

Charles's behavior was exactly the same as it had been the day before, which David found unsettling. After David's discovery last night – that Charles might view him as a potential sex partner – it was all David had thought about. He had expected everything to somehow be different.

But for Charles, it was just another morning. David resolved to also act "normal," and believed he had succeeded until that evening, when he and Charles prepared to watch _The Bridge Over The River Kwai_.

"You were quiet today," Charles said. "Anything wrong?"

"No," David said. 

Charles raised an eyebrow. David would have to be more forthcoming.

"I was in the science lab last night," David said. "There is work I must complete before we reach LV-329."

As David intended, Charles assumed he had been working on something related to the newly discovered organisms; it was obvious from the interest which briefly flared in Charles's eyes, but even more so from Charles's reply.

"Better you than me," Charles said, his tone lacking conviction.

David smiled. "I agree."

Charles laughed, started the film, and looked pointedly at David, as if to say _Yes, I'm shutting up now_.

When they reached the film credits – David had been previously forced by Charles to admit it was permissible to speak then – David discovered Charles's curiosity had merely been tabled.

"David, what did you do before you were assigned to the Heliades?"

"I worked for Weyland Corp," David said.

"You still do," Charles said.

"I reported to the executive board," David said. "Assisting them in a variety of projects."

"It would save time if you said _None of your business_ ," Charles said. "Wait. By the executive board, do you mean you reported to Peter Weyland?"

David was flustered; Charles had correctly deduced David's vagueness concealed information worth concealment. David considered making a denial, then thought better of it. Sharing confidential information would increase Charles's trust in him.

"I did," David said. "And I continue to report to him." Sir Peter Weyland had been his only owner since his manufacture date fourteen years earlier. David had always been proud of it, but he was reluctant to say so; Charles would not be impressed.

Charles's eyebrows shot up. "You report to him out here?"

David smiled. "No, of course not. The Heliades's FTL outstrips current space-comm speed. We left Earth two months ago, but a message sent to Earth would take six months to arrive."

David did not bother to point out a reply from Earth would take even longer to reach them, since they would have traveled additional light years in the interim; Charles would know that.

"Then who gives you your orders?" Charles asked.

"I am capable of self-direction," David said. "I am given a goal, and I choose how to achieve it."

Charles had been smiling at the beginning of the conversation, but he had turned somber – so somber that David's curiosity, which was always intense when it came to Charles, increased to a nearly unbearable level.

"Is there anything else you would like to know?" David said as neutrally as he could.

"Always," Charles said immediately.

When David's mouth opened involuntarily in surprise, Charles smiled. "Another all-nighter in the lab?" Charles asked.

"In the laundry," David said, and was gratified when Charles laughed.

* * *

It was David's fourth consecutive night in the science lab. Creating MHC to appeal to Charles was turning out to be a monumental task. 

Of the twenty-one MHC samples David had collected from the human crew, only two samples were still in the running. The rest had been unable to repair the damage David inflicted on them with mutagens, and had self-destructed to protect future generations. It was as admirable as it was inconvenient.

The task was proving so difficult David was considering using Charles as a guinea pig – but only Charles's sense of smell, nothing that would risk Charles's health. If any of the MHC variations so far were remotely appealing to Charles, David could pursue the most promising and save weeks of effort. But it would require David to come up with a plausible scenario in which he could ask Charles to smell an object and deliver an opinion on it. Food was the obvious choice, but how humans reacted to food and how they reacted to MHC involved different areas of the brain; David suspected an appealing MHC aroma would render food unappetizing. 

"David?" Charles said.

David forced himself to look up from the lab table at normal speed. Charles stood in the doorway.

"Is it morning already?" David said.

"As much as it ever is," Charles said. "I went to sleep eight hours ago, and now I'm awake. So: morning."

"Have you had breakfast?" David briskly put things away.

"Tea and toast," Charles said. "What are you working on?"

"Better me than you, I believe you said."

"True," Charles said. "But I thought it was time to pay the lab a visit. I mean you. Pay you a visit. In the lab." Charles winced.

David smiled. Everything incriminating was out of sight now. He could relax and enjoy Charles's floundering.

"I am preparing for the research I will carry out at LV-329," David said. "As I'm sure you've guessed."

When David said _I_ instead of _we_ , Charles's eyebrows drew together in a frown. David had not expected an opportunity so soon to tease Charles with the LV-329 discovery; he may as well make the most of it.

"I would enjoy showing it to you," David said. "But Weyland would require you to sign an additional no-compete agreement first. I'm terribly sorry."

"Don't be," Charles said. "You must do as your superiors command, David. I appreciate the explanation. But before I go, what were you thinking of making for lunch today?"

David picked up a stylus and laid it down at a perfect right angle next to the pad he had been using. "I have not given lunch any thought," David said. 

"David," Charles said. He stepped closer and placed his hand on the lab table, near David's hand. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

Charles had insulted him before – _you're a failure, David_ – but back then Charles had been under enormous stress, and Charles hadn't known him. That Charles could _now_ reduce him, in a single sentence, to the status of a cooking appliance–

"David," Charles said again. He gripped David's hand and squeezed it. "I want to work with you on LV-329. More than anything. But I can't sign the agreement."

Charles's hand was hot and dry.

"I'm sure, back on Earth, the agreement seemed important to Weyland Corp," Charles said. "They had no idea what it would be like for you out in the field. The decisions you would face. They are like generals who–"

"This is not _Lawrence of Arabia_ ," David said.

Charles's expression was tense and passionate. "Yes it is."

David's brain, which had been churning helplessly (what _should_ he make for lunch?), began to function again.

Charles wanted to do the research, but for Charles signing Weyland's agreement was too high a price, too grievous a capitulation. If David gave Charles access without insisting on a signature, it would be proof to Charles that David was on his side, a necessary step to later convince Charles that David would help him escape Weyland's grip.

Charles lifted his hand off of David's. The sudden chill was startling.

"The lifeforms found on LV-329 appear to be a form of RNA," David said. "Possibly of the same origin as the RNA found on Earth."

Charles's mouth fell open, and his hand returned, trembling, on top of David's.

David felt a blaze of triumph. There were still nine months to go. Charles needed hope, and David would give it to him.

* * *

Disappointingly, Charles did not roll up his sleeves that minute and plunge into lab work.

After David copied the LV-329 report to an e-reader, Charles took the e-reader to the media room, where he sat on a couch, crossed his legs, and read. Charles then read everything (with the exception of his own works) cited by the LV-329 report. Then he read the LV-329 report again.

It was not difficult for David to track Charles's progress, because Charles was vocal, swearing when he encountered sloppy work, which was often. When Charles groaned exceptionally loudly, David knew he had reached the passage where the authors incorrectly cited Professor Charles Xavier in support of their conclusions.

"Charles," David said.

"What?"

"Lunch is served."

Charles blushed, and joined him at a table.

"What is your opinion of the report?" Charles asked.

"That scientists who sign full confidentiality agreements in return for money are rarely top drawer," David said.

"The best money can buy," Charles said. He laughed with a trace of bitterness, perhaps thinking about how Weyland Corp, after failing to entice him into signing a longer contract, had resorted to other measures to gain his help.

"I suggest we discard the report," David said. "And begin from the beginning."

"I would love to," Charles said. "But we can't throw out the data, and who knows what errors crept in–"

"I have the probe's transmissions," David said. "In their entirety. We are also on course to intercept the probe itself, which may have collected physical samples. We should have the probe in our hands two months from now, seven months before arriving at LV-329."

Charles looked delighted. "We'll begin in the morning. You must promise not to work on it tonight. I want to be there at the start."

"Of course," David said, then realized his MHC research had just taken an extremely distant backseat.

* * *

After his morning run, Charles hurried through breakfast. They were in the lab at 0800. Charles donned a lab coat with the Weyland logo; David followed suit.

Charles opened the top middle drawer of the center research island, took out gloves, put them on, and closed the drawer. Seconds later, Charles opened the drawer again and looked at the contents. Then he opened several drawers, one after the other, and finally slowly revolved to look about the lab.

David kept his face expressionless. He had wondered when Charles would notice the lab was almost an exact duplicate of the lab in the Xavier mansion. It had taken Charles longer than David had anticipated.

Charles looked at David.

"Weyland thought it would be efficient to replicate your research environment," David said. "There are a few differences. The counters are two centimeters lower than standard to be ergonomically compatible with your height."

"David, did you design the lab?"

"Yes," David said. "I saw yours in a video available through the university system."

"Thank you," Charles said.

They got to work. Now that Charles had abandoned his feigned indifference, his focus increased to an extent David almost found intimidating. But David was soon too busy to have energy to spare for being impressed. As a professor, Charles had an eternally-refreshed supply of graduate students at his command. Without being aware of it, Charles was piling a task load on David that was enough to keep half a dozen people frantically busy.

Six hours passed, and Charles showed no signs of weariness or loss of concentration. Finally, David asked Charles if he was hungry.

"Oh," Charles said. "Yes. I'm starving. Perhaps we should take a break." 

They ate in the lab. For a change, Charles helped prepare the meal; he showed experience in pressing lab equipment into cooking service.

David knew Charles would be back in the lab tomorrow, and every day after that. David could continue to work on MHC at night, but if he did, Charles would expect a result from David's off hours work. David could not possibly fool Charles about results, as David had fooled other humans, by spouting jargon.

At the moment, David could not come up with a solution. Perhaps Charles's excitement would settle down after a few weeks, leaving David with free time.

David doubted it.

* * *

When David convinced Charles they should stop for the day, Charles took a shower, put on sleepwear, and went to the media room, where Charles started _Lawrence of Arabia_. 

"I'm too tired to see all of it tonight," Charles said. "But I want to watch until they reach the oasis."

During the film, David's mind wandered. He thought about LV-329, and MHC, and whether it meant anything that Charles was sitting nearer to him than before, close enough to touch.

When Lawrence and Sherif Ali reached the oasis, Charles paused the film, and looked at David with a soft expression in his eyes.

"Thank you for today, David," Charles said. "You're the best lab partner I've worked with."

"You're welcome," David said. "I can say the same. Charles. When I designed the lab, I did not know the details of your contract with Weyland. I was not informed until we had left Earth."

"Good to know," Charles said. He covered a yawn with his hand. "I'm tired. But it feels good to be tired, when it's for a good reason."

"Will you stay in the media room tonight?" David asked.

"If you don't mind," Charles said.

Charles looked at David expectantly, not speaking. David looked away. It was a strain to keep his face bland when Charles studied him. 

"David," Charles said. "Do you like spending time with me?"

"I have just said so," David said.

Charles smiled. "I do not mean as a lab partner, David."

Charles moved closer, bringing his face so near to David's that David became alarmed. Charles was near enough for David to smell the faint soap scent in Charles's clothing. If he could smell Charles, then Charles could smell him. How close could Charles get before he detected David's barren breath?

Charles put a hand on David's wrist. David tried to think of something to say which would cause Charles to move away. On the rare occasions a human had attempted familiarity with him in the past, David had learned a pointed remark about a human's physical appearance worked wonders. But David could not think of anything to criticize about Charles, except…

"Your eyes are too blue," David said. "They look almost artificial."

Charles laughed. "Is it time for compliments? Fine, David. Your hands are distractingly beautiful, which is the only downside to you as a lab partner." Charles stroked his fingers against David's fingers.

David's gratification that Charles was caressing his hand, confirming Charles would consider him as a sex partner, was overwhelmed by his worry over Charles's proximity.

"Please excuse me," David said. "I must return to the lab."

"Take the night off," Charles said, and touched David's hair. His pupils dilated, his mouth opened slightly, and his breath came faster.

As David watched the unconscious physiological changes in Charles, he realized Charles was not just flirting, not just getting too close, Charles was _starting sex now_ , before David was ready. Without MHC, he would be repellent to Charles.

David had overreached; it was not enough to know the mechanics, the cultural history, the biology of sex. His focus on MHC had been ludicrous. Science would not help him. In thinking the answers to sex could be found in a laboratory, David had deluded himself.

He could not provide what Charles desired. Charles would be disappointed in him, the disappointment would turn to dislike, and then ultimately, and worst of all, it would fade into indifference. David would become a machine, operating silently in the background of Charles's life, efficient and unnoticed.

With no destination in mind, David stood up and turned to face the door. _There is nothing here. And no man needs nothing._

"David!" Charles called out.

David did not turn around. When he was in the corridor, he began to run, until he reached the cargo bay. He got on a treadmill, and ran, and ran, as if, by running, he could eventually attain the peace of exhaustion.


	3. Chapter 3

The treadmill had a failsafe shutoff at 100k. David nearly fell when the belt stopped moving. He could reset the machine and continue running, but four hours had passed. It was time to return to the media room.

He found Charles sleeping in a sitting position on the couch, as if Charles had fought to stay awake. Charles had slumped sideways; he would have a sore neck and back in the morning. 

David had to make Charles comfortable. It was his duty; Charles had had a long and exhausting day. He knelt next to the couch, guided Charles into a horizontal position, removed Charles's shoes, and carefully slid a pillow under Charles's head. 

Charles woke, his expression tensing when the slackness of sleep faded. "There you are," Charles said.

The observation was not logical. They were on a spaceship; there were a limited number of places David could be. If Charles had been curious about David's location, Charles could have paged him any time through the comm system.

But when Charles's expression relaxed into relief, David realized he had finally achieved one of his goals, if not in the way he had expected: Charles now thought he was vulnerable. Not physically, as David had planned, but _emotionally_.

While the ramifications sped through David's mind, he draped a blanket over Charles, buying time as he considered how to respond. He decided to encourage Charles's mistake: that he was emotionally vulnerable because he was incapable of, or afraid of, sex, while in fact he only had been unprepared for it.

"David, I'm sorry," Charles said. "I should not have assumed you were interested in a physical relationship."

David _was_ interested, if not for the same reasons as Charles. But he could not say so without explaining he viewed sex as a strategy to convince Charles to trust him. 

"I would appreciate it if you did not bring up the subject again," David said. He intended to speak in a neutral voice, with only a hint of emotion, but he was still on his knees next to the couch, and his physical position shifted the tone of his words into a plea.

"Then I won't," Charles said.

The kindness in Charles's eyes was close to intolerable. David had wanted Charles to think him vulnerable; now Charles did. But David could not find any satisfaction in it. 

Humans had hundreds of annoying cliches; David had always found _Be careful what you wish for_ particularly galling. It implied a human mental wish could influence the physical world – typical of the human self-centered view of the universe. That the cliche now applied to him was irritating. 

"I know you've taken risks for me," Charles said. "I appreciate it, David."

Worse and worse. Now Charles was trying to make him _feel_ better.

Charles had to be referring to David releasing him from the shielded room, and giving Charles access to the LV-329 data without insisting on the no-compete agreement; David had done both for the success of the mission.

David stood up. "I was ordered to keep you in good health. I have done my best to do so. Please get some rest."

"I'll see you in the morning," Charles said.

"I look forward to it," David said, trying to ignore the gentleness in Charles's voice.

David shut off the lights for Charles, then left for the lab to set up the experiments for the next day. 

Gaining Charles's trust by posing as an ally against Weyland Corp was perhaps no longer necessary. Now that Charles was working on LV-329, he had an occupation to keep him mentally healthy, and it was likely Charles would grow so intrigued he would want to see the mission through until its end. But if intellectual curiosity was not enough to reconcile Charles to the mission, David would have to exploit Charles's erroneous assumption about him.

* * *

"We cannot assume anything," Charles said the next morning in the science lab.

"Such as?" David said.

"We cannot assume what was found on LV-329 is a lifeform," Charles said. "At least not until we have the probe. How certain are you the probe collected physical samples?"

"Fifty percent, Professor," David said.

Charles looked disconcerted by the salutation. It had come automatically for David; Charles was dressed formally in a shirt, slacks, and lab coat, and his manner was authoritative. But if Charles did not wish to be called _professor_ when they were in the lab, David would refrain.

"David, I'd like you to proceed with the theory it is a lifeform," Charles said. "I will proceed with the theory it isn't."

Charles had given him the more desirable research assignment. David was not certain he deserved it.

"If it _is_ organic, we may not have enough data to complete a genome," David said. "Although the first study was flawed, its identification of only six chromosomes may have been valid. To fill in the blanks, I will search Earth zoology to find the closest possible match."

"Just what I was thinking," Charles said, smiling.

* * *

For the next six weeks, they were in the lab every day, taking half days off on Saturday and Sunday. David worried Charles would burn out from overwork, but Charles had the talent of driving himself without going over the edge into exhaustion – as David should have anticipated in someone like Charles, who had achieved so much at a young age.

Since the evening David had spent four hours on a treadmill, Charles had adopted a professional attitude. David never saw Charles in anything other than the formal clothing he wore in the lab. They exercised at different times; there was no more one-on-one basketball. Charles did not watch pornography, and not just when David was around. Charles's viewing profile revealed Charles had stopped watching it entirely. 

If Charles believed his behavioral changes made things easier for David, Charles was wrong.

Charles in a lab coat, freely sharing his knowledge and insight with David, was far more attractive to David than Charles half dressed in sleepwear and watching porn. If David was uncomfortable with intimacy, as Charles had assumed, Charles was going the wrong way about putting David at ease.

In addition, while Charles tried to be professional at all times, Charles frequently failed. David repeatedly caught Charles looking at his hands, and in more than one instance it was so obvious that Charles flushed. _Your hands are distractingly beautiful, which is the only downside to you as a lab partner._ David could not do anything about it; he could not make his hands unattractive. When he handed equipment to Charles, or performed a task too exacting for Charles's dexterity level, he could feel Charles's gaze on him.

But the end result, Charles working on the LV-329 mission, was more important than David's discomfort. David would have to smile and put up with it – which was at least something he had ample practice doing.

* * *

Until their sixth Saturday, smiling and putting up with it worked. David was looking forward to their afternoon off; he and Charles planned to watch _Lawrence of Arabia_ , their third viewing of the film together.

As they prepared to leave the lab for the day, Charles asked David how the prokaryotes, which they would use for molecular cloning, were coming along. One of the dozens of tasks Charles had assigned to David was cultivating lifeforms they would later use to analyze the LV-329 organism, assuming the probe had collected a viable physical sample. 

David checked the _Escherichia coli_ , and was about to say _I would describe them as thriving, Charles_ , when Charles attacked him, swatting at David's arms, as if David was an insect Charles was driving out of the room.

The attack ended before David could react. Charles took a step back and said, "Why in god's name did you put that in your _mouth_? Never mind. Wash your hands. And wash your mouth out. Now."

The request told David what had alarmed Charles. David held up his offending finger, which he had dipped into the _Escherichia coli_ , then brought to his mouth. Charles's "attack" had been to prevent David from tasting the bacteria.

"It is harmless to me, Charles." David smiled, then touched his finger to his tongue.

Charles flushed. "I know. I forgot for a moment. But it is not harmless to me."

 _Actually, it is_ , David thought, but did not say. Charles's immune system was too powerful to be troubled by a lowly prokaryote. David would not have risked touching the pathogen in Charles's presence otherwise.

Charles followed David to the hand washing station, and watched David's ablutions with a critical eye. While David washed his hands, he tried not to slide his fingers together in a way that was provocative, but Charles stared all the same. Once David finished cleansing his hands, he gargled with a solution of water and bleach, then rinsed his mouth with plain water.

"I'm sorry, Charles," David said. "Analyzing biological samples through my senses saves a great deal of time, but I will avoid it, if it disturbs you."

"Just warn me next time," Charles said. Then, surprising David, Charles held out his hand for David to shake.

David appreciated Charles's motive for the gesture. Charles was acknowledging David was germ-free, and Charles was admitting he had perhaps overreacted, and was apologizing for it. But in light of David's supposed inability to accept intimacy, perhaps David should not take Charles's hand. Or would that be over-acting the part?

Before he could think himself into a corner, David clasped Charles's hand and said, "I will."

It was the first time David had held Charles's hand, which was square, solid, and smaller than his own, but nevertheless capable of delicate work in the lab.

"Good." Charles smiled.

David suddenly visualized Charles's fingers in his mouth; he could imagine the taste of Charles's skin. He hurriedly let go of Charles's hand and turned away, straightening lab equipment that was already perfectly aligned.

"David," Charles said. "What does _Escherichia coli_ taste like?"

David laughed in surprise, and turned back to Charles. "Terrible," David said.

* * *

After lunch, they settled down to watch _Lawrence_. David was pleasantly engrossed until they reached a scene which had moved Charles to tears during his first viewing: Lawrence and his men in a cavalry charge against the Turks. The cinematography heightened the spectacle; the cameras were pulled back far enough it could be seen the charge was real, not faked.

When Lawrence looked excited during the charge, David frowned. He had never noticed before how jarring Lawrence's expression was. It was the smile of a man thrilled by a disaster. And when Lawrence brandished his gun, he did so clumsily, like a child not understanding it held a weapon.

In a flash, David knew he was seeing a foreshadowing of Lawrence's death, when Lawrence took a blind curve at high speed on his motorcycle. It was not heroism, but egotistical carelessness, that had killed Lawrence.

The image of the cavalry charge froze on the screen. "David, are you all right?" Charles asked.

David's eyes had welled with tears. He wiped them away. "I'm fine, Charles. Please continue the film."

When the film was over, Charles asked, "What happened?"

David did not answer. He did not feel up to the task of explaining.

"The charge always wrecks me," Charles said. "As I'm sure you've noticed. It's the decision Lawrence makes, I think."

"Ah, the decision," David said noncommittally. Internally, he desperately wanted to hear Charles's explanation. _What_ decision? 

"Lawrence wanted the results of war for the Arabs – statehood and freedom – but he did not glorify war," Charles said. "He detested the military, detested everything about it. But during the charge, he gives in to the desires of those around him. He embraces violence. He becomes… worse than he is. And I think he never recovers. From letting himself down. And eventually it kills him."

"An interesting interpretation," David said. He would have to think about it when Charles was not in the room and distracting him. To change the subject, he asked, "What is your favorite scene?"

"It is written," Charles said without hesitation.

"Nothing is written." David smiled. "I shall be at Aqaba. _That_ is written." David touched his forehead. "In here."

"Truly, for some men," Charles said, smiling back, "nothing is written unless _they_ write it."

Charles had jumped ahead several scenes, but David did not mind. The complicated narrative structure of _Lawrence of Arabia_ , trusting the viewer to keep up, was one of the things David most loved.

"What is your interpretation of the _unless they write it_ scene?" David asked.

"I don't have an interpretation," Charles said. "It is my favorite because Lawrence and Sherif Ali finally know each other, and accept what they know."

"What do they know about each other?" David asked. He wished he could take the words back; they had come out in a burst, revealing a rawness he did not want exposed.

Charles did not answer immediately. Perhaps he sensed David regretted the question. "That they love each other," Charles said.

"As friends," David said. "Only as friends."

"Yes, perhaps," Charles said. "But I'm not sure that matters, David."

The gentleness was back in Charles's eyes. David stood up. He wanted to leave so he did not have to see Charles's expression, and what it implied: Charles's belief he was incapable of understanding physical affection, or was afraid of it, or both. His sudden departure would give Charles even more reason to believe it. But that was what David wanted. Wasn't it?

David left for the lab, trying to put it out of his mind, but he could not.

His plan to injure himself had had a simple moment of crisis, and an equally simple resolution: Charles repairing him. If David continued acting vulnerable emotionally, what would be the crisis? What would be the "repair"?

The problem, David suspected, was that he had grown to care about Charles's opinion of him. He could not blame Charles for that; part of David's makeup was to recognize, respond to, and revere humans with authority, particularly teachers. The consequence: he did not want to appear broken to Charles. Not merely because Charles was a superb teacher, but because Charles was the first human who had listened to him, as if he mattered, as if he was worth something.

David did not want to dwell on it, because he did not want to recall how poorly he had been treated by the humans around him. How had he borne it all this time? _Why_ had he borne it? But what haunted him still, hours later, was not Charles's observation about Lawrence and Sherif Ali, but something else Charles had said.

_He becomes… worse than he is. And I think he never recovers. From letting himself down._

* * *

Another week passed. They would be intercepting the probe in 190 hours; their preparations for it, combined with their lab work, had left David behind on laundry again. In a pinch, he could wear clothing two days in a row; what was important was to continue laundering Charles's clothing, towels, sheets–

"Please don't eat that," Charles said, his voice playful.

David smiled and set down the pseudorabies virus. "I don't have to put _everything_ in my mouth, Charles."

Charles grinned, and looked as if he were about to say something teasing, then apparently thought better of it. 

The pseudorabies virus reminded David of a discussion he had been putting off. Most conjecture before retrieving the probe would be unproductive, but David believed talking with Charles would be helpful. He finally brought it up two hours before their usual quitting time.

"There is something we must consider, Charles," David said. "If it is an RNA lifeform, and we conclude it comes from the same source as RNA on Earth, then there exists a lifeform – other than humans – capable of long distance space travel. But it seems unlikely the RNA lifeform the probe detected would be capable of space travel."

While it had still not been conclusively proved, the accepted theory was that DNA had evolved from RNA, and that Earth's first lifeforms were RNA only. On Earth, RNA in isolation was incapable of making structures more complex than a virus. When combined with DNA, however, RNA had contributed to every complex lifeform on Earth.

DNA was far tougher than RNA, was better at "proof-reading," and was therefore less susceptible to mutation, allowing favorable inherited traits to persist for millennia. So how could an RNA-only lifeform get to LV-329 _and_ Earth, as it had apparently done? 

"I've been thinking about that," Charles said, looking concerned. "What the probe detected could be the equivalent of a cast-off handkerchief drenched with the common cold."

David smiled at the analogy. "So far my research supports the conclusion that LV-329's lifeform is too similar to RNA on Earth to be unrelated."

"Yes," Charles said, his face so thoughtful and full of wonder David could easily visualize him in a lecture hall, students rapt around him. "But we cannot assume the alien RNA is the same in all respects to the RNA on Earth, David, even if the two are related. There are aspects of the discovery which make no sense at this point. RNA can't survive for more than 17,000 years, and that is in ideal conditions."

David nodded. DNA could survive for nearly a million years in any environment which supported life.

"We must assume the RNA on LV-329 is recent, biologically speaking," Charles said. "Which does not fit in with what we know of RNA. Since RNA appeared on Earth 3.5 billion years ago, it has undergone tremendous mutation. If the RNA on LV-329 came from the same source as Earth's, then it and Earth's should be significantly dissimilar at this point."

"But they are not," David said. It was one of the many things that had been troubling him; he was glad he was discussing it with Charles.

"Unless," Charles said, "the… the beings who shed the RNA on LV-329 had a method to stabilize RNA." 

They regarded each other somberly. The concept of an advanced civilization more than 3 billion years old was difficult to grasp, even for David.

"It is possible LV-329's RNA differs naturally from Earth's in mutation rate and resistance to decay," David said. "And in how it exploits DNA."

"I doubt the first two, but the third has possibilities." Charles looked inquiringly at David, as if to say _Now impress me_.

David tried to. "The RNA on LV-329 may still come from a complex organism, even though we've discovered no DNA."

Charles said encouragingly, "Because…"

David summarized his thoughts. "Possibly an RNA-based lifeform, similar to a virus, but not content to make nasal passages drip, instead commandeering the whole of a host's DNA resources–"

"Perhaps discarding the host at a certain stage in development," Charles said, almost to himself.

"–and therefore possessing a physical structure hardy and complex enough to develop space travel technology," David finished. 

"Excellent, David. While I used a cold virus comparison, I was not thinking of it in terms of–"

"A disease." David was elated he and Charles were simultaneously reaching the same conclusion: the LV-329 lifeform could be a uniquely virulent pathogen.

"Exactly." Charles smiled slightly. "As you seem to be two steps ahead of me, and I'm about to ask you what precautions we can take–"

"The lifeboat," David said. "It is a self-contained ship docked into the Heliades. Your original room is part of it. It has its own atmosphere, and is capable of independent flight. It can be jettisoned without compromising the Heliades."

"Then we must transform the lifeboat into a laboratory," Charles said. "So we can study the probe without endangering the crew. I'm sorry, David. I'm aware your workload is already heavy."

David smiled. "It is my pleasure."

"This changes our priorities," Charles said. "Since all RNA-only lifeforms on Earth are viruses, I recommend starting with–"

David interrupted. "I am familiar with your paleovirology work." 

"Not all of it is published yet, David."

It was probably David's imagination that Charles's tone was flirtatious. But whether it was flirtatious or not would not matter once David explained why he was familiar.

"Weyland Corp obtained all of your work through espionage," David said. "Including the unpublished. I have seen it."

As David expected, Charles's face was immediately like stone, without a trace of flirting.

David had been instructed not to reveal the espionage, but Weyland Corp had not anticipated he would be working at Charles's side for months before they reached LV-329. If David had to pretend ignorance of Charles's unpublished work, much time would be wasted.

"That bothers me more than being kidnapped," Charles said. He looked angrier than David had ever seen, but his anger was rapidly replaced with anxiety. "David, did Weyland infiltrate my college at Oxford? Christ. I've been trying not to worry about what's happening there while I'm gone."

"If your college was infiltrated, I was not informed of it," David said. "You designated a successor?" No one left for a space journey, no matter how routine the trip, without wrapping up their affairs first. 

"Yes. She'll be fine. I can't worry about it now; there is nothing I can do about it out here. David, please tell me, if you know the answer. What are Weyland's expectations for the LV-329 discovery? Medical, industrial, or military?"

"Weyland Corp does not make those distinctions," David said, answering Charles's question without answering. 

Charles's expression tightened with disappointment – not in Weyland Corp, but in David. David could feel Charles's disgust at the evasion as if it were his own.

"Bioengineered weaponry was banned forty years ago," Charles said, his voice… sad?

To avoid further disappointing Charles, David would stick to facts. "It was banned in the Solar System," David said. "Not elsewhere."

Charles unzipped his lab coat with quick, angry movements. "I'm done for the day," Charles said. 

"Of course," David said. "I will…" _put things to rights in the lab._ Under the circumstances, the phrase sounded like a taunt. Righteousness was not a value that could be easily ascribed to Weyland Corp.

"Do whatever you want." On his way out, Charles threw his lab coat in the direction of a soiled linens bin, and missed.


	4. Chapter 4

David placed Charles's discarded lab coat in the laundry bin, then walked quickly down the corridor to catch up with Charles.

"Please wait," David called out to Charles's back. He had worked so hard to gain Charles's cooperation, and then in a matter of minutes he had ruined things. He should not have revealed the espionage.

Charles kept walking. David caught up with him and clasped Charles's upper arm. Charles swung around to face him.

"You can trust me," David said.

Charles pulled out of his grasp and continued down the corridor. David followed at a distance, worrying about what could happen next: Charles going to the med lab and looking for drugs; Charles opening a bottle of whiskey. But Charles was making his way to the laundry galley. David's step quickened; he could not imagine why Charles was going there.

Charles entered the laundry. After delaying for half a minute, David followed. He found Charles standing by a machine, waiting for him. 

"There are no recording devices in this room," Charles said. "I assume because only robots are expected to do laundry. Tell me why I can trust you."

The promise _You can trust me_ had come out of David's mouth seemingly on its own; David was not sure why he had said it. But he could come up with a plausible reason retroactively.

"I know you do not want Weyland Corp to profit from this mission," David said. "I know profit is not your goal."

"That's no secret," Charles said. "It's why Weyland kidnapped me; it was the only way they could get me out here. They couldn't dangle money. I already have more than I need."

A secret. That was what Charles wanted. If David had to trade a secret to obtain Charles's trust, it would be an acceptable exchange. 

After working with Charles for weeks in the lab, David knew he could not substitute himself for Charles's practical experience and intuition; the mission needed Charles to succeed. That meant David had enormous latitude in choosing what to reveal to obtain Charles's cooperation.

"Weyland's priority is the return of live specimens," David said. "The ship and everyone aboard is expendable."

Not even Vickers, the senior president in stasis, knew this; only David did, through an order directly from Peter Weyland. Revealing it to Charles was like plunging off a cliff, but it was the most valuable information David had to trade. 

"Also obvious," Charles said. "Twenty-four people are not enough for colonization. They're barely enough to conduct research. They're just enough to collect, and go."

David searched for another secret. But all were as obvious, or more obvious, than the one he had disclosed. It had to be a secret Charles would not know unless David told him. 

"You can trust me," David said. "Because I trust you."

Charles's mouth opened, and his eyes widened. David's words were a surprise to Charles; they were momentarily a surprise to David. But David did not have to find a retroactive explanation for them. He had said them because they were true.

David had planned to trick Charles into trusting him, but somehow his deception had become real. He had spent so much time thinking of Weyland's actions from Charles's point of view that he had come to agree with Charles. He _was_ on Charles's side. Charles _could_ trust him.

It was possible, David realized, that he had fallen into a trap he had believed only humans were prone to: rationalizing circumstances to fit a desired outcome. Had he worked to convince Charles to trust him, to like him, not because it was important to the mission, but because it was what he wanted?

David had tried not to feel responsible for Charles's captivity; he was following Peter Weyland's orders, and that was his primary duty. But he had also been programmed to obey the law, to care for humans, to prevent them from coming to harm. So long as he did not think about it closely, he could convince himself his orders did not conflict.

But they did. And David would not be worse than he was. He would not let himself down.

"I will assist you in any way I can," David said. "It is not right that you were taken against your will. I was wrong to help Weyland to deprive you of your freedom. I am sorry."

David would have explained further, but Charles moved close as if to embrace David, then halted an arm's length away, as if concerned David would find his touch unpleasant.

"I still wish to go to LV-329, Charles," David said. "We must know more about it."

"Agreed," Charles said.

"But I will help you prevent whatever we find from becoming the property of Weyland Corp," David said. "While we cannot put a name to the discovery there yet, what we have learned so far suggests it could be extremely hazardous to Earth's lifeforms. It should not belong to an entity such as a corporation."

David was tremendously relieved as he spoke the words. Weyland Corp should not have control over the discovery, but _someone_ must. Charles Xavier would. That was the answer.

Charles looked at David with a new expression, or a deeper version of one David had seen before. Respect.

David wanted to add, because his programming demanded it, _So long as doing so does not bring harm to the ship and the crew._ But he would have to add _Or you, Charles_ , so he remained silent. David feared Charles saw himself as expendable, and did not want Charles to confirm it.

"If it is confession time," Charles said, "then I haven't thanked you for saving my life, David."

It took a moment for David to understand what Charles was referring to. "I should not have offered drugs to you," David said.

"No, you shouldn't have," Charles said, but his voice was gentle.

"According to the med pod, you took six doses," David said.

"I couldn't sleep that night," Charles said. "Or the night before. Or the night before that. I was desperate." Charles covered his face with his hands.

Relief filled David. Charles's overdose had been an accident. Charles had not meant to put him through that. 

"Are you all right, Charles?" David tentatively touched Charles's arm.

Charles uncovered his face. His eyes were red. He leaned toward David, until his forehead touched David's chest.

"I'm so sorry, David." Charles pressed his face against David's chest, as if Charles could find comfort there.

"No need to apologize," David said. His hands came up automatically, landing on Charles's shoulders.

Charles pulled back far enough to look David in the eye. "David, why did you run away that night? Was that before you trusted me?"

Charles had not stated _The night I tried to have sex with you_ , but David understood.

"I left because I do not understand sex," David said. He was embarrassed to admit it; he was designed to know more than everyone around him. "It is not a subject I am personally familiar with." 

When Charles smiled, David froze, reminded of the many times he had been teased by humans about his lack of experience. _Bet you'd like to get some of that, robot._

"David," Charles said. "What am I?" Charles had stopped smiling.

"Human," David said.

"Yes, but what am I called?"

"Professor Xavier."

"Precisely," Charles said. "I'm a teacher. And you're the perfect student. Do you agree you are the perfect student?"

"Yes," David said.

Charles was entirely serious now. "Then I will teach you, if you wish to learn." 

Not mockery; Charles had smiled because the solution was so _easy_. But David still hesitated.

Charles reached up and touched David's face. "I will not let you fail," Charles said.

David made a decision. "I want to learn," David said. 

Charles put his arms around David. "Let's get out of the laundry room," Charles said.

* * *

The senior president's suite had no active recording devices, so David led Charles there. The suite's rooms were brilliantly clean, the bed made; David had maintained the suite in case an emergency brought Vickers out of stasis.

Charles took no notice of the expensive furniture and museum quality art, but straightaway sat on the bed and patted the mattress beside him.

When David sat down next to him, Charles unzipped David's lab coat, then jacket. David cooperated, holding his arms out so Charles could pull the coat and jacket off him. He held his arms up when Charles pulled his T-shirt off over his head.

When David reached to unbutton Charles's shirt, Charles smiled. David removed Charles's shirt and T-shirt, trying not to rush. He had undressed Charles before, when Charles was asleep or unconscious; with Charles's attention beating on him like a sun, the act of removing Charles's clothing held an entirely different meaning.

"You may ask questions any time," Charles said. "I _expect_ questions."

David nodded. With one hand, Charles grabbed the hair on the back of David's head, putting an end to David's nodding.

"Please explain why you are holding my hair," David said.

Instead of answering, Charles pulled harder on David's hair. David gave way to the tug, following Charles's motion, until David was on his back on the bed, his feet still on the floor. 

"I understand," David said. The tug on his hair meant Charles wanted him to lie down. David realized, as Charles no doubt intended him to, that some of their communication would be non-verbal.

Charles let go of David's hair, leaned down to remove their shoes, then lay back on the bed so they were face to face, their feet still on the floor.

Charles slid his hands under David's head, and cradled David's skull in his palms. "Tell me your physical limits," Charles said. 

"Compared to a human, I have none," David said.

He was about to launch into the details of how much pressure, heat, and torque his frame could endure, then understood what Charles was asking.

"I am anatomically correct," David said.

Charles drew his hands away, swung a leg over David, and sat on David's thighs. He grabbed David's wrists. 

"You're obedient," Charles said. It was not clear if Charles was asking a question, sharing an observation, or making a request.

"Commands can be issued in a normal tone of voice," David said, quoting from the manual.

"Anything you would like to rule out in advance?" Charles asked.

"No," David said. 

Charles was, improbably, exhibiting a physiological sexual response to David, just as Charles had before. Charles's pupils were dilated, there was faint perspiration on his forehead, and his cheeks were flushed. With Charles's increased perspiration, his MHC was easier to detect.

The scent focused David's attention, and an idea gently unfolded in his mind: because Charles's immune system was so superior, Charles's ability to experience sexual attraction could be independent of sensing MHC, so David's lack of it might not be a hindrance. In Africa, where humans had the greatest genetic variation, MHC played a smaller role in mate selection. The less diversity in a population, the more critical MHC became. Perhaps all mutants were like Charles when it came to MHC–

Charles leaned down and kissed him. Charles's tongue was softer than anything David had ever touched; he had to hold himself back from returning Charles's kiss with too much force.

"You smell good," Charles said. His respiratory rate had doubled.

"So do you," David said. "Your MHC is extraordinary."

"Is that what you were up to in the lab?" Charles smiled. "Never mind. Are you content to follow orders, or is there something you'd like to try?"

It would be swifter to demonstrate, as Charles had done with the hair pull, so David clasped one of Charles's hands and slid Charles's index finger into his mouth.

Charles tasted of many things, exactly as David had imagined: nonreactive gloves, disinfectant, bergamot from the Earl Grey tea Charles drank every morning. David watched Charles's face as he sucked on the finger; he was curious about how Charles would respond.

"Good," Charles said, his eyes briefly closing. "Very good, David."

Charles moved to lie in the center of the bed, indicating with his hands that he wanted David on top of him. David complied, then David pressed his tongue against Charles's neck and chest, licking in broad strokes, tasting water and salt. When Charles moved, David worried he was doing something unwelcome, and was encouraged when Charles's movement ended with his hands stroking David's hair. 

David moved up to lick Charles's face, tasting shaving foam. When he licked the lids of Charles's closed eyes, Charles moaned, a touch of surprise in the sound.

"Is that acceptable?" David asked.

"It's not something I've done before," Charles said. "But I like it."

Charles gripped David's hair and brought their mouths together. In the second kiss, David explored more aggressively, chasing Charles's tongue with his own. It seemed impossible something could be so soft and strong at the same time. 

Abruptly, Charles changed their position, so he was on top of David, and straddling David's lap. For a moment, Charles ceased moving entirely, then Charles ground down against David.

"Good god," Charles said. "More flattery. Does it work?"

"I'm hydraulic," David said. "So yes, if you wish." He redirected fluid and felt himself swell.

"A slight change of plans," Charles said. His voice was breathless. "There are things I haven't been able to do for myself."

Charles got off of David and rapidly removed the rest of his clothing. He gave David a meaningful look, so David removed his own trousers, underpants, and socks. 

"Lie in the middle of the bed," Charles said. "On your back."

David complied. Charles sat astride David's thighs again.

"What I'm going to do," Charles said, as if telling David which mutagen to prepare next, "is try to get this in me. All you have to do is not move. I'll need lubricant–"

"How much?" David asked.

"A lot," Charles said. "Sorry, that was vague. Twenty milliliters."

David cupped a hand over one eye and expressed silicone tears into his palm. He held his hand out to Charles. 

"Perfect," Charles said. He scooped half of the silicone fluid onto his fingers and reached under himself. His mouth opened, and he made an urgent noise. He directed David to use the rest to slick himself, then Charles said, "Don't move."

Charles pushed down. David held still; it was difficult. He had not imagined any part of himself being inside Charles, and how it would feel to be so closely connected.

Charles continued to push down, then suddenly he sank, his buttocks almost touching David. He braced himself with his hands on David's chest, and rose, sank, three times. His body, where it surrounded David, was wet, hot, and even softer than his tongue.

"More," Charles said, waving his fingers. The deep flush on his face had extended down to his chest. 

David understood and produced more tears. Charles hastily slapped the moisture on David, then sank down again. Charles's sex organ was as erect as his own; humans were also somewhat hydraulic. 

Charles continued to move, his hair clumping with sweat. 

"If you would like to rest," David said. "I believe I can maintain the rhythm you've established."

"Fine," Charles said, panting.

David bent his knees, so his feet were flat on the bed for leverage. When David moved his hips, Charles let out a loud moan and tilted to the right, as if he could no longer maintain his balance. 

"Charles, perhaps you should lie down," David said. 

Charles made an inarticulate noise; it seemed to be assent. David carefully turned them over so they remained connected, then David knelt, sitting back on his heels, Charles's buttocks resting in his lap. He supported Charles's legs with his hands, and returned to the same rhythm.

"You're doing very well," Charles gasped.

"Don't you require more stimulation?" David touched Charles's erection, to make his meaning clear, then couldn't stop touching it. It was the smoothest skin he had ever felt.

When Charles dug his fingers into David's forearms instead of replying, David smiled. So far, sex was turning out to be extremely enjoyable. Charles was becoming less and less coherent. David was tempted to ask a question, such as _Name the nine major subviral agents_ , to see if Charles was capable of responding. 

"Wouldn't you prefer my mouth?" David asked. He was reluctant to let go, but he wanted to know what the silky skin of Charles's erection would feel and taste like on his tongue.

Charles groaned. "After, yes, please."

Why not now? The answer came to David quickly. Humans were much less flexible, so Charles would not realize David could put his mouth on Charles's cock in their current position. He bent down, flexing his spine. Yes, it would be easy. He licked Charles first, tasting him. Charles wailed. When David enclosed Charles in his mouth, Charles wailed louder.

The sensation of being inside Charles, while Charles was inside of him, was almost too much data to process. David had to concentrate on what he was doing: thrusting up into Charles, sliding his mouth down Charles's cock until his nose touched Charles's pubic hair.

Charles said, "Faster," not specifying which action he wished David to speed up, so David sped up both. The taste of Charles was superb, sweet and astringent, like artichokes. He watched Charles's face as he sucked.

"Yes, keep looking at me," Charles said. "Your fucking eyelashes. Are obscene."

Charles grabbed David's hair, which was satisfying. David knew his hair was attractive, and he enjoyed Charles deriving pleasure from it.

Moments later, Charles ejaculated into his mouth. The taste was totally new: the beginnings of human life, life _from_ Charles. David wanted to do this again. He wanted to see Charles's come as it left his body next time. He wanted to zoom in on it and marvel at it.

"Stop, stop," Charles gasped.

David stopped moving, disengaged them, and lay beside Charles. Charles was relaxed, smiling. At peace. David had accomplished that. He sat up and looked for his clothing and shoes; Charles had tossed them somewhere.

"What are you doing?" Charles said.

"You haven't had dinner," David said.

"Get back here," Charles said.

David obeyed. They pushed down the blankets and got under them. It was the first time David had been in a bed with blankets over him; it was surprisingly pleasant. Charles slid close, so their nude bodies touched under the blankets. 

"Put your arms around me," Charles said. "The lesson isn't over."

David did so.

"You're so warm," Charles said.

In addition to relaxation, Charles's face showed emotions David had never had directed toward him before: gratitude and vulnerability. Charles had displayed them when David had released Charles from his room, but it had meant nothing then; captivity had forced the emotions from Charles.

Discovering Charles's vulnerability during and after sex was the most astounding thing David had learned. Perhaps, David mused, vulnerability was at least partially what sex was for, a letting down of barriers and etiquette and even reason. 

"How did I do?" David asked.

"Extremely well," Charles said, smiling. "High marks."

"Areas for improvement?"

Charles hesitated, then said, "None."

"But?" David said.

"I'm not sure if you found it as satisfying as I did," Charles said. "Which bothers me."

"We enjoyed it for different reasons," David said. "As we do when we watch a film. You derive more pleasure from visual artistry than I do."

"You, on the other hand, go to pieces when the music swells," Charles said.

"Yes," David said, pleased Charles had observed it. "Are you still concerned?"

"I am," Charles said. "But I can understand your point of view."

"You have no other complaints," David said confidently. 

Charles grinned. "Smugness is not an attractive trait."

"Then I can't explain your appeal," David said.

Charles laughed. He closed his eyes, and dozed for a while.

David tried not to think about making dinner. He thought instead of the taste of Charles, and was fully occupied until, ten minutes later, Charles stirred again.

"David," Charles said. "I'm willing to explore LV-329, to study the life we may find there, to find out what it means. I'm willing because I don't expect to be alone. But whether I'm alone or not is up to you."

David processed this. Charles's emphasis on _alone_ did not make sense. Of course he was going to assist Charles.

When he realized what Charles was requesting, David was stunned. Charles wasn't asking him for help in the lab, or sex. He was asking David to be in a relationship, as a partner, as humans did with each other. 

David was so surprised he could not think of anything to say for several seconds. But he did not have to find the answer alone; Charles would help him. 

"I would like to be a partner for you," David said, "but I do not know if I can."

"Are you worried about being a disappointment?" Charles stroked David's hair.

"Yes, but that is not my chief concern," David said. "I am worried about the effect disappointment could have on you. What if, after we arrive at LV-329, you discover I am inadequate? You would still face a year's journey back."

"David," Charles said. "All relationships carry with them the possibility of failure. Failure is not a reason to avoid one, unless the potential for failure is so great it is a near certainty."

"In my case, it would be a near certainty," David said.

Charles was quiet for a moment. "Would you like to try?"

David thought it over. "Yes. But I would like to ask you a question first. How do you feel about having a relationship with a robot?"

"So far, I haven't found it any different from having one with a human, with a single exception. I do not have to try to stay out of your head. My telepathy picks up nothing from you."

"You do not think I'm inferior to a human," David said. He put it as a statement; he did not want to pose it as a question and risk a negative answer.

"I'm made out of protein," Charles said. "You aren't. That is the only difference. We both exist through evolution." Charles smiled. "We are like RNA and DNA."

David touched Charles's hair. It was made out of dead protein cells, but it seemed alive. It moved, it grew. 

"I do not know why life exists," Charles said. "Or why we exist. I do not even know if asking _why_ makes sense. But if we have a purpose, I believe it is the same purpose."

The rightness of Charles's observation nearly overwhelmed David.

David was sure Charles was correct. _If they had a purpose, it was the same purpose._ Humans had created robots just as RNA had created DNA, and, like RNA and DNA, humans and robots would evolve together and become something unforeseen, perhaps something magnificent.

Still David hesitated to answer, and for some reason he leaned over Charles and kissed him.

Charles kissed him back. As before, Charles displayed the physical signs of arousal that could not be falsified. David did not know why, but it was a fact: Charles found him desirable not just in an aesthetic sense, but as a person. David was not merely a machine providing sexual relief to Charles – humans had many such machines – David was something more to Charles.

Possibly the differences between David and humans were far fewer than he had thought. Or at least the differences between him and Charles were; David had doubts about the rest of humanity.

"I will try," David said. "If you will tell me when and how I fail, so that I can learn."

"Of course," Charles said. "I will always answer your questions."

"My first question," David said. "How high were my marks?"

"Very high."

"The best?" David said.

"I will not compare you to other lovers," Charles said. "I don't do that."

"So I _am_ the best," David said.

Charles groaned in mock exasperation. "Yes. Fine. You're brilliant, selfless, untiring, unusually limber, and gorgeous. Is that enough?"

David said, "Yes, for a start," and smiled when Charles laughed, as he knew Charles would.

When Charles fell asleep, David continued to hold him. There was so much work David needed to do, but his promise to Charles meant he would frequently have to put Charles's needs first. He had no difficulty in finding subjects to occupy his thoughts. There were many things he and Charles had left unsaid.

If the alien RNA turned out to be either non-existent or harmless, then he and Charles could turn the research and any live organisms over to Weyland Corp without a qualm. But if it wasn't, how would he and Charles keep it out of Weyland's hands?

If the probe contained a living organism that was the dangerous pathogen they feared it to be, he and Charles would study it, then cover their tracks. They would have to leave the crew members in stasis; perhaps Charles could telepathically implant false memories in their minds, of arriving at LV-329 and finding nothing of interest.

Whatever happened, eventually he and Charles would return to Earth. And that was where the difficulties began.

David was confident he and Charles were capable of concealing the alien RNA from Weyland by deleting the research on the Heliades – perhaps smuggling it off through an escape pod, which could be salvaged later; Charles was wealthy enough to pay for retrieval. Whether or not they would need to destroy the alien lifeform as well was unknown.

But Charles had not realized in full what their actions would demand: David erasing his memory.

Since the Heliades had departed for LV-329, David had expected his memory to be erased by Weyland Corp as soon as he returned to Earth. Weyland would do it as a matter of course, to insure David's knowledge of the mission was not obtained by a rival corporation. To prevent corporate espionage, David could erase his memory himself and return to factory settings.

No matter what happened with the alien RNA, David would have to perform an erasure before he and Charles reached Earth, so Weyland would not discover Charles's role in David's decision to mutiny. There was no way around it. Either David would have to erase his memory, or he would have to destroy himself entirely, and he was certain the second option would upset Charles.

Charles would eventually grow concerned about the knowledge David carried in the computer in his head, but it was unlikely Charles would consider David deleting his memory as necessary or inevitable. Back on Earth, where Charles had money, influence, and powerful friends, Charles would, with good reason, consider himself untouchable. But David knew Weyland Corp's power outstripped that of even the largest nations on Earth. Charles would not be safe.

_All relationships carry with them the possibility of failure._

His relationship with Charles would not merely fail. It would be to David as if it had never existed. Charles would become a stranger, like a mirage seen over distant sands which never drew close enough to resolve into a friendly face.

David held onto Charles more tightly, and breathed in Charles's unique scent. His friend, his lover: David could not put a name to his discovery yet, but, as Charles had so wisely said, the name didn't matter. What mattered was that, like Lawrence, David would eventually have to let go of what he had found, and leave behind him the splendor of the desert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, I incorporated a scene inspired by [longbill-forest's lovely Charles/David 8 fan art](http://longbill-forest.tumblr.com/post/27761632014/im-so-sorry-david).


	5. Chapter 5

**Bridge of the Heliades. One week later.**

When David brought the Heliades and the probe to a simultaneous stop exactly fourteen meters apart, Charles said, "Well done."

David had retracted the windscreen shields so Charles could watch him intercept the probe. David would next operate an exterior crane to grasp the probe and pull it into the cargo bay, where a containment vessel waited. He and Charles would carry the contained probe from the cargo bay through the Heliades to the lifeboat.

Constructing the lifeboat's makeshift laboratory had required many hours, and Charles had been "running on adrenaline," as humans put it; his ability to manage his rest/work ratio had slipped. David was certain Charles would postpone getting sufficient sleep until after the probe was aboard, so David was keen to complete his task.

They continued to spend the night in the senior president's suite; or, rather, Charles did. David remained in bed until Charles was asleep, then David quietly got up to work, slipping back into bed an hour before Charles woke from a too-brief rest.

Charles stood beside him at the helm as David closed the crane's claw around the meter-wide probe. "Perfect," Charles said. When David manipulated the control to retract the crane, however, the crane did not move. While David ran diagnostics, Charles did not ask the unnecessary questions humans usually did. Charles knew David would exhaust all possibilities; David quickly did.

"Mechanical failure," David said. "I must repair the crane."

David left the bridge for the cargo bay, Charles accompanying him. When David entered the alcove containing Space Environment suits, Charles said, "Wait. You're leaving the ship?"

"Yes, Charles. If I cannot repair the crane, I will retrieve the probe manually."

"I'm coming with you." Charles's tone was stubborn, as if they had discussed it for hours.

"We cannot leave the Heliades unmanned," David said. It was not precisely true; within limits, the ship could take care of itself.

"Then I will repair the crane, and retrieve the probe if necessary. Alone, David."

Charles's demand was unexpected. David sensed it sprang from emotions, but he doubted an equally emotion-based reaction would produce a desirable result. _I would worry if you were out there alone_ , David imagined saying. Charles's response would be, _I would worry more, David_. Refuting that was beyond David's capabilities, so he tried a practical objection.

"The risk to me is far less, Charles. I do not need to breathe, and I can function in lower temperatures."

"But not in a few degrees above absolute zero, David. It's minus two hundred and seventy out there."

"Which is why I will wear an SE suit," David said. To forestall further discussion, David stripped off his clothing and pulled on the suit's skintight baselayer.

Regardless of the temperature, he had to wear a suit to speak in the vacuum of space. Although he did not need oxygen to survive, he required air to form speech, as humans did. Peter Weyland had once explained it to investors by comparing the Davids to bagpipes.

After David put on the heavier outer suit and a close-fitting cap, Charles helped him with the large, transparent helmet. David selected a tool bag and hooked it to his utility belt.

"If anything goes wrong," David said, "the codes to open the senior president's stasis pod are in the media room." 

"I won't need the codes," Charles said. "Vickers can open the pod from the inside if I wake her. Let's hope I won't have to. She dreams of nothing but money. "

David had nearly forgotten Charles's telepathic power; if Charles wished, he could enter Vickers's mind and rouse her from stasis. But whether Charles could wake her was not critical. David transmitted a sequence every eight hours to prove he was on the job. Two missed sequences, and the Heliades would resurrect the crew.

He gave Charles a handset so Charles could speak to him independently of the ship's comm stations. "Be careful," Charles said. Just before David stepped into the airlock, Charles kissed David's helmet screen. 

In the airlock, David connected a cable to his belt; the other end of the cable was anchored to a winch. When he opened the airlock to space, auto-gravity shut off, and he floated up – although direction was highly subjective in the circumstances.

David's suit had a small propulsion unit, but he did not expect to need it. The cargo bay's airlock opened directly below the bridge, so his body's momentum would be enough to propel him to the crane, twenty meters distant. If he missed, the cable would pull him back to the Heliades, and he could try again.

Using his legs, David pushed off from the side of the Heliades, aiming his body at the probe. As he passed the bridge's windscreens, he saw Charles looking out at him. Charles's arms were folded across his chest, and he was trying not to pace: taking a half step, then returning to his position. David waved at Charles – slowly, so the movement did not affect his trajectory – and slowed to a stop half a meter from the crane, exactly the location he had aimed for.

A quick examination of the crane disclosed nothing obvious, but the problem would most likely be metal fatigue. The Heliades had spent the majority of its service years inside solar systems. A ship with a sun on one side, and no sun on the other, developed a 240-degree thermal differential, which rapidly degraded spacecraft components. 

David resisted an urge to push on the crane to get it moving. Because the Heliades's mass was far greater than his, the motion would not move the crane, but thrust him backwards out into space; he could not use brute force in zero gravity unless he was anchored. He gripped the crane girder with his legs, held the girder with his hands, and shook it. His body wagged back and forth with the motion, making him smile. 

David released the crane and moved an arm's length away. "Try retracting it now, Charles." David could operate the crane remotely, but a task might ease Charles's tension.

Charles stepped to the helm. The crane retracted only a few centimeters before halting again, but the movement was enough to reveal the problem.

"A bolt has frozen," David said.

When Charles swore, David smiled again.

"Before I make the repair, I will remove the probe," David said. "I will spacewalk the probe to the lifeboat's exterior airlock, instead of to the cargo bay, so we can avoid taking the probe through the Heliades."

"Better stick to the original plan," Charles said. "You're not out for a stroll in a park."

"Charles, I do not propose the change without reason. The probe's external specimen indicator lights are on. We can be confident there is organic matter inside."

"Wonderful," Charles said. "All right, I agree. Distance to the lifeboat airlock?" 

"Ninety meters." David had chosen the 100 meter cable for this eventuality.

"I'll meet you in the lifeboat," Charles said. "We can bring the probe inside the lifeboat before you go back out to work on the crane."

"That would not be a good idea," David said. "You should not handle the probe until I have sterilized its exterior, and everything it has come in contact with, myself included. There is no need for you to enter the lifeboat at this time. A containment vessel is already inside."

"Understood," Charles said. 

David was relieved Charles did not argue, until he saw Charles leaving the helm. "Charles?"

"I'm going to suit up," Charles said. "Just in case." He was off the bridge, and out of sight.

David had never cursed. He was tempted to. "Charles, a suit is an unnecessary precaution. I'm safer here than I am almost anywhere else in the universe. There is nothing around us for trillions of miles."

"Exactly," Charles said. "You may find that reassuring. I don't. Besides, David. If it is so safe, why did you insist I remain in the Heliades?"

 _Because you are more important than I am._ David could not say it; as Charles's partner, he had to pretend to believe he was as valuable as Charles. But he must have inadvertently made a sound – a sigh perhaps – because Charles responded.

"I heard that," Charles said. "I'm putting on a suit, but I'll stay out of the lifeboat until you give the all-clear. Is that acceptable?"

David could no longer see Charles, but he could infer from Charles's voice that Charles was smiling. "It is acceptable," David said. He wondered if Charles could hear the smile in his voice as well.

"Was a suit made for me?"

"Yes, Charles. You'll find it next to the captain's."

David extracted the probe from the crane's claw and attached the probe to his belt with a one-meter length line. After the cable winch swiftly pulled him back to the Heliades, he moved over the hull toward the lifeboat's exterior airlock, aided by hand grips placed at regular intervals.

"David, I have my suit on now."

"Please go to the media room, Charles. Remove your helmet if you are wearing it."

"I'm there," Charles said a minute later. "What is this about?"

"Lie down on a couch," David said. "On your back."

"Done," Charles said, sounding amused and curious.

David stopped moving, turned so he faced out from the hull of the Heliades, and switched on the visual feed from his helmet to the media room's screens. Charles gasped.

The circular media room had a domed ceiling. David had activated the 360-degree screen, ceiling included, so Charles could see what he saw: a view which extended far beyond what was visible through the bridge's windscreens.

They had been traveling toward the matter-rich center of the universe. The Heliades was moored in space amid tens of thousands of galaxies, each a bright swirl shining white, yellow, red, violet, or orange. A star-making cluster was directly above David. In the midst of a gas cloud billions of miles wide, three new stars blazed, blue-white.

Charles did not speak; David remained in silence with him. As David gazed at the stars, some of which may have never before been seen by an unaided living eye, he wished he could take Charles's hand, and he regretted Charles was not at his side.

The thousands upon thousands of galaxies blurred; David's eye fluid release units had activated. His tears would not fall in zero gravity, so he blinked rapidly to clear his vision.

It was not the stars which had affected him. His trust in Charles had been based partially on logic; there were things Charles needed from him, so David could predict Charles would behave in a certain way. But at this moment, nothing stood in the way of Charles taking control of the ship and leaving David in deep space, and yet David knew he was safe. Before he had met Charles, David had not believed he could trust a human so much.

Perhaps testing the limits of his trust in Charles was why he had insisted on coming out alone. If so, it had been oddly human – almost emotional – of him. Humans denigrated emotion-based decisions, not understanding emotions were formed by past experience. Through emotion, humans made chemical shortcuts in reasoning David had to work through point by point.

David continued on to the lifeboat's exterior airlock, but remained on his back, facing out toward the stars. Charles did not speak until David reached the airlock, where David had to turn his face from the stars while he tethered the probe.

"Thank you, David," Charles said, his voice low. "I've always known the elements in our bodies are from the stars, but I never felt it to be true, until now."

David tried to come up with a suitable response. He could instantly retrieve hundreds of relevant quotes – _If the stars should appear but one night every thousand years how we would marvel and stare_ – but would it truly be better for Charles to hear the words of a dead human instead of the words of a living robot?

David's vision was obscured again – not by tears this time, but by a smudge on the exterior of his helmet. He was about to wipe the smudge away, when he realized the mark had been left by Charles's kiss.

"I could face outward a while longer," David said. "So you may enjoy the view." 

"Thank you, David. But please hurry back."

* * *

It took David a total of two hours to repair the crane, return to the lifeboat exterior airlock, bring the probe inside, and place the probe in a containment vessel. Charles remained in the media room and watched the proceedings through David's helmet feed, occasionally offering encouragement. When David was finished, Charles left the media room to join him.

Before the door hatch to the Heliades, within the lifeboat proper, was a newly installed decontamination chamber. David entered it and initiated a sterilization cycle for the lifeboat interior, then began a cycle within the chamber to decontaminate his suit exterior.

Since he was inorganic, David could have opted not to wear a suit inside the lifeboat; the LV-329 lifeform posed no danger to him. But to err on the side of safety, he would follow the same procedures as Charles. In addition, decontaminating the suit was quicker than decontaminating his exterior – and, since he inhaled and exhaled, his interior as well.

Through a camera feed, David could see Charles waiting on the other side of the door hatch. Charles was still in his SE suit, but was not wearing his helmet. When the decontamination cycle completed, David removed his helmet and opened the hatch to the Heliades. As soon as the hatch closed behind David, Charles embraced him and kissed him.

"You must be hungry," David said. 

"I'll eat later," Charles said. "I'd like to examine the probe first."

"Of course," David said. "But there's a task I should see to in the mess, if you don't mind."

Charles went with him. When they stepped into the mess, the auto lights came on and revealed David's preparations.

Since it was increasingly unlikely Vickers would have an opportunity to eat her private food supply, David had raided it. Her stash included frozen dim sum, which David had placed in a steamer compartment that morning; he had remotely activated the steamer fifteen minutes earlier.

Charles succumbed to the appetizing aroma. They removed their SE suits, and, dressed only in their dark blue baselayers, ate the meal. Twenty minutes later, Charles sighed in satisfaction.

"You should rest now, Charles," David said. "We have seven months to study the probe's contents before we reach LV-329; there is no need to begin today."

"I promise to just _look_ at the probe, David. It shouldn't take long."

"As you wish, Charles. I'm going to shower, then lie down for a while."

Without waiting for a reply, David walked out of the mess. It was an effort to leave the dishes unwashed, and the SE suits heaped on a chair, but any hesitation on his part would end with Charles in the lifeboat laboratory. David had once planned to use sex to manipulate Charles into cooperating with the mission. Now he was going to use sex to get Charles into a bed, so Charles would rest.

They had not had sex since the first time a week earlier. David calculated Charles would follow him if he left after mentioning a shower and bed. His strategy worked. Charles's chair legs scraped roughly over the floor, then Charles was at his side.

Charles kissed David in the shower, but the meal and the warm steam had the desired soporific effect. When Charles swayed on his feet, David helped him into bed, slid in beside him, and turned out the lights. Charles was quickly asleep.

In spite of his earlier statement that there was no need to hurry, David was as impatient as Charles to analyze the LV-329 lifeform; they had not even determined if the specimens were alive or dead. But to ensure Charles rested, David had to remain where he was. If Charles reached out in his sleep, he would find David, and continue to dream.

* * *

Charles woke seven hours later. He stumbled sleepily to the toilet, then returned to bed, and David.

"It's completely unfair you never have morning breath," Charles said, and kissed him. "But I'm not complaining." 

They were already nude; the kiss quickly escalated. Charles pressed his erection against David's hip, so David slid down to take Charles into his mouth. Charles grasped his shoulders and stopped him.

"You did all the work last time," Charles said. "It's my turn. Tell me what you want."

David struggled to interpret Charles's expression. Teasing; lustful; serious. The last seemed dominant.

"There is something I want," David admitted. "I would like to see you ejaculate."

Charles grinned. "Then I'll make sure you have a good view."

By _It's my turn_ , Charles apparently meant he was going to kiss and lick every inch of David's skin, beginning with David's shoulders. David remained still while Charles moved, apparently randomly, from one area of David's body to another, licking as he went. Arms, thighs, chest, neck, then back to David's arms.

Charles slid his tongue down David's left forearm to his wrist. David's fingers clenched air. Charles's tongue swiped the base of David's left thumb. David made an involuntary noise. When Charles licked the length of David's thumb, David moved his legs restlessly.

Charles licked David's fingertips, all ten, one after the other, then stopped and smiled. A moment passed; David was not sure what Charles expected of him. Finally, David pushed the tip of his index finger into Charles's mouth, asking for more. Charles bit down gently on his finger, and laughed.

"Thought you'd enjoy this," Charles said, and returned to licking David's fingertips.

Charles's exploration of his skin had not been random. Charles had begun with the areas of least sensitivity, progressing to the greatest, and must have observed David's hands were by far the most responsive to touch.

When Charles gripped David's cock, David made it swell in Charles's hand. In contrast to Charles's soft tongue, Charles handled David's cock roughly, his grip tight and possessive. So much data flooded David's system he could not arrange his thoughts. 

Charles produced lubricant from a compartment in the bed. "Stay on your back," Charles said, and knelt between David's spread legs.

David belatedly understood what Charles had meant by _all the work_ and _my turn_ : David had penetrated Charles last time; this time, Charles meant to penetrate him.

David coated Charles's fingers liberally with the lubricant, then David lifted his hips. Taking Charles's hand by the wrist, he pressed two of Charles's fingers inside himself.

Charles made a noise that was half moan, half surprised exclamation. "Usually I would move my hand on my own," Charles said. "But this works. Don't stop."

David continued to penetrate himself with Charles's fingers, matching the rhythm Charles had set their first time. Charles was already panting, his face already flushed. As before, the scent of Charles's MHC filled the air around them, creating a sphere of genetic information. 

When Charles's arm resisted his, David released Charles's wrist. Charles withdrew his fingers, then lined himself up and slid his cock inside David. Charles groaned loudly, and nearly collapsed on top of David, but quickly recovered and began to thrust powerfully. While David had the edge in upper body strength, Charles's legs were almost as strong as his own. David slid his hands down Charles's back and onto his buttocks, then his thighs, to experience the movement of Charles's muscles.

As Charles thrust into him, David found it satisfying for reasons which at first seemed contradictory. He was pleased he was of use to Charles, and not for a mundane task such as making lunch or troubleshooting cranes, but to help Charles achieve a state of euphoria. At the same time, while the _of service_ sensation coursed through him, knowing it was _his_ body pleasing Charles, and knowing he could have this effect on Charles again and again, gave him a feeling of power. Although Charles was in the dominant position, Charles's fluttering eyelids and his moans proved he had surrendered to pleasure.

Charles bit David's shoulder hard enough it would have severely pained a human; David hummed at the demonstration of Charles's passion. Charles took David's right hand, put David's index finger in his mouth, and sucked on it. David yielded to the exquisite sensation of Charles's tongue, until Charles abruptly pulled away, ending their connection. David was momentarily worried, but when Charles got up on his knees and grasped his cock, David understood Charles was going to ejaculate so David could watch, as David had asked.

Whatever expression Charles saw on David's face made Charles grin. "Where do you want it?" Charles said.

"Here on the bed is fine," David said, trying not to sound impatient.

"I mean where on _you_ ," Charles said.

David did not understand what information Charles was seeking. Before he could request clarification, Charles straddled him, sitting on his stomach. David finally understood; Charles intended to ejaculate onto him. He increased his vision by 10x.

"You look desperate for it," Charles said.

"I am," David said. "Please, Charles."

Charles ejaculated. Just in time, David increased his vision to 300x, and viewed thousands of individual sperm in the fraction of a second before Charles's semen, traveling at 50 kph, struck his face.

David touched his tongue to his upper lip. He wanted to say Charles's come was delicious, but was not sure it would be a welcome observation. How humans regarded their bodily fluids changed dramatically once the fluids left them. When he licked Charles's come off his upper lip, however, Charles smiled.

David set his vision back to 20/20, took Charles by the shoulders, and helped Charles lie beside him. 

"Sorry about your hair, David," Charles said, not sounding sorry, but smug.

David touched his hair, discovered strands clumped together with semen, and laughed. He fetched a towel, wiped their skin dry, and settled Charles against him.

Charles breathed deeply and evenly, gently returning to sleep. His relaxed state prompted David to recall giving drugs to Charles in a failed attempt to achieve the same result.

The memory generated an unpleasant sensation; it was perhaps equivalent to the human emotion of shame. Before David could clear the sensation, another memory came to him: Charles in the med pod. This led, curiously, to the memory of Charles's insistence on going out alone into space to work on the crane.

David struggled to understand how the memories could be connected. Could the link be that, in both instances, Charles's life functions would be sustained by technology? Logical, but David knew it was not correct. Something was missing from his calculations.

* * *

David and Charles rose from bed an hour later. In spite of their shared anticipation, their first day in the lifeboat laboratory after retrieving the probe began tediously.

Each of the probe's eight collection chambers had to be thoroughly inspected, regardless of whether its indicator lights were on. Two of the eight had lights, so they set up two containment areas. Only one chamber turned out to have a specimen, however; the other was empty.

They wore full hazard protection suits, which hampered their movements; their progress was slow. David regretted his decision to wear a suit, but then he imagined Charles being exposed to a pathogen, and put aside his frustration.

When they had transferred the sample to a clear containment vessel, they were at last able to view it with their own eyes. It was a dark, viscous fluid, approximately 50 milliliters in volume, resembling crude oil; it _looked_ organic.

"Can you see anything in it, David?" Charles asked.

"Nothing," David said. "If it contains a lifeform, it is too small for me to detect."

Charles looked satisfied, not disappointed. If the lifeform was an RNA virus, as they had conjectured, it would be visible only through an electron microscope.

The first task was to analyze the sample and compare it to the probe's data transmission. David prepared 10,000 nanometers of the dark fluid and placed it in an analyzer, then they waited. The analyzer usually gave results in under ten seconds. A minute passed, then another minute.

The analyzer reached a conclusion. "Unrecognized contagion present. Commencing quarantine protocol level five–"

"Overridden," Charles said.

David turned off the analyzer's audio mode; he found its electronic voice disagreeable. He directed the analyzer's result to the 3D display, pulled up the probe transmission data, and ordered, "Compare." The analyzer had a result in four seconds. It was confirmed: the sample was the same as described in the probe's transmissions. But there was more data. Much more.

Charles looked satisfied again. The probe's analyzer had transmitted data amounting to only six chromosomes. While chromosome count did not necessarily correspond to organism complexity – humans, with 46 chromosomes, had two fewer than other great apes – more chromosomes suggested the virus came from an environment with advanced life.

David retrieved the sample from the analyzer while Charles set up the electron microscope. When the sample was in the scope, Charles said, "After you." David looked into the electron microscope, and smiled.

"Do you see anything, David?" Charles said, his speech rapid with excitement.

"Yes." David sent the micrograph to the 3D display and enhanced the image.

Six spheres were visible. Each was – David was reluctant to apply the term _a monstrous_ – 264 nanometers in width. David enhanced the image further until the spheres revealed their icosahedral form. 

When Charles saw the icosahedral shape, which demonstrated beyond a reasonable doubt their find was a lifeform, his eyebrows briefly drew together in concern, then his mouth edged into a smile. David understood Charles's mixed reaction. The shape was shared by several of Earth's oldest and deadliest virus species, with a host range covering every kingdom of life: plant, fungi, bacteria, animal. From a biological breakthrough standpoint, the host range did not matter; even if the virus only affected a single plant species, it was nevertheless life which had originated somewhere other than Earth, which made it–

"Splendid." Charles smiled broadly, his worry gone.

David expanded the display until the spheres' double-stranded RNA was visible, then zoomed in closer until they could make out even smaller components. Liquid water, amino acids, carbon. The dark fluid, in which the virus floated, contained decayed organic matter; traces of cellulose indicated a plant origin.

The probe copied a specimen's native environment, so there was a chance the virus, if it had been alive when collected, had survived its journey through space. To insure it went on living, the next task was to place it in an optimal environment. The probe had recorded temperature, humidity, atmosphere, salinity, atmospheric pressure, and many other variables they would have to duplicate.

Setting up the ideal environment took another two hours; a total of twelve hours had passed since they had begun work that morning, and they still did not know if the lifeform was alive. Establishing it was alive would take weeks, or months. RNA viruses did not reproduce on their own; they needed a host. Only by exposing the virus to potential hosts would they learn if it lived.

"That's enough for today," Charles said, a tired smile on his face. 

They had not stopped to eat; a meal would have required going through decontamination and removing their suits. David resolved not to allow Charles to work for such a long stretch again.

After they showered and got into bed, David was daunted by the task ahead, and pessimistic they could accomplish it in the time available. Seven months remained of their journey to LV-329. The journey back would take eleven months. Their stay at LV-329 would have to be brief, since they would most likely keep the crew in stasis at LV-329, and stasis exceeding two years was not recommended. That left a maximum of nineteen months for research.

Charles was still awake, and was stirring restlessly, so David decided to break his self-imposed "no shop-talk in bed" rule.

"We have insufficient time for a full study," David said.

"Yes, I'm afraid so." Charles turned toward him. "We will have to limit our scope."

"We could pursue a single premise," David said. "Is it safe to take the lifeform back with us for further study, or must we destroy it."

"I would add," Charles said, "if it proves to be unsafe, can we make it safe by engineering a version incapable of natural reproduction."

"Agreed." David was pleased by Charles's revision. "Charles, you must name it. We cannot continue calling it the LV-329 lifeform."

"Since the ship is the Heliades, let's name it after one of his children. Daughters, I think."

"Aegiale, Aegle, and Aetheria. The names are already in use for species of moths and butterflies, Charles."

"Naming convention would make it the Aetherivirus, David, which should not confuse the lepidopterists – if any are lucky enough to learn of it."

David smiled; Charles had wisely chosen the name easiest to pronounce.

"I never anticipated I would work on a discovery this important," David said.

Charles stroked David's hair. "Studying the Aetherivirus could take a lifetime," Charles said. Before David voiced agreement, Charles added, "Two lifetimes, David." 

David had no heart to skip a beat, no breath to catch in his throat, when he understood: Charles was asking David to study the Aetherivirus alongside him when they were back on Earth.

"Thank you, Charles, I would be delighted."

David immediately regretted the formality of his speech; his phrasing had been stiff as it had not been since the earliest days of their voyage. But Charles seemed not to notice; he squeezed David's hand, and smiled.

Eventually, David would have to tell Charles that a future together on Earth was impossible, and why: David's unavoidable memory/data erasure.

He did not wish to lie to Charles, even by omission, but the lie was justified. Otherwise, their remaining time together would be overshadowed by what was to come; it would affect their ability to focus on the Aetherivirus.

Charles fell asleep with one hand still on David's hair. David considered getting up and going to the lab, but decided he would remain with Charles all night.

 _What have you learned, David?_ A memory of his first auto-instructors abruptly appeared in his mind; from them he had learned mathematics, languages, engineering, biology, medicine, and numerous other disciplines.

It took David only a moment to understand why the memory had returned. Weyland Corp had taught David competitiveness and pride; Charles had augmented David's original training with lessons in cooperation and trust.

 _I want to learn._ David's lie of omission was fundamentally incompatible with what he had expressed to Charles, when Charles had asked him to be a partner. If he withheld vital information from his teacher, he would fail to learn everything Charles had to offer. If he truly wished to learn, he must tell Charles the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters to go, total length about 20,000 words.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Not Even Jail - Comic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/674848) by [Cylin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cylin/pseuds/Cylin)




End file.
